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AMONG THE MEADOWS 



Among the Meadows 


A Novel 

« ^ 


BY 


FRANCES ALLEN HARRIS 



New York and Washington 
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1905 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DEC 20 1905 


Copyriirht Entry 



Copyright, 1905 
By 

FRANCES ALLEN HARRIS 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 




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AMONG THE MEADOWS 


CHAPTER I 

On a bluegrass knoll in northern Kentucky, 
was a two-story brick dwelling. The house was 
shaped like the letter T, and in the top part of the 
T was the front door. The door stood open on an 
afternoon in June, 189 — , and two women sat in 
the hall, sewing. 

When the younger of them observed that her 
mother was tossing back her head, and was bring- 
ing down her chin with unusual force and 
frequency, she left off her work, and stared out of 
the door, picking her teeth with the point of her 
needle. 

“Camilla, have you finished gatherin’ that 
ruffle?” asked Mrs. Cliff Morgan, presently, in a 
tone with a sting in it. 

“Not quite,” answered Camilla. Then she ap- 
plied herself again to her sewing. 

“How many yards of ribbon have we put on this 
skirt?” asked the mother. 

“Thirty,” replied Camilla, humbly. 

“And there’s another ruffle to make yet! It 
didn’t take so many furbelows to catch the beaux 
in my day,” declared Mrs. Morgan, displaying a 
degree of self-complacency in the modulation of 
her voice. “If you don’t take Bruce Turner don’t 
you expect me to keep on flouncin’ and be- 
ribbonin’ for you. Now!” Her head went back 


8 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


and her chin came down with a jerk of final 
decision. 

“He hasn’t offered himself yet, mother. A girl 
nowadays is forced to await the pleasure of a 
young man in that matter. I reckon the fact de- 
notes the progress of women, showing their ad- 
vance in patience over the girls of former genera- 
tions,” said Camilla, with a look of mischief in her 
bright, hazel eyes, and a smile about her full, red 
lips. 

“Camilla Morgan! none o’ your nonsense now. 
I’m talkin’ sense. If you let Bruce Turner slip 
you’ll be sorry for it some day. He owns a nice 
home with three hundred acres of as good land 
as there is in the county. Besides, he’s makin’ 
money all the time ; your father said so last night.” 

“But this is not leap-year,” said Camilla, bend- 
ing over her work. 

“Tut! you know he’s dead in love with you. 
Any other girl would jump at the chance.” 

Camilla let the work fall out of her hands, and 
the smile died out of her comely face. When the 
sewing-machine had ceased its noise, she said: 

“Mother, you know I don’t want to marry any- 
body. If I did, I wouldn’t marry a farmer, for I 
don’t like to live on a farm.” 

“Not marry anybody! Why, I’d like to know? 
It’s not a career you are wantin’, is it? I’ve heard 
you talk about careers for women. While I don’t 
know anything about your new-fangled notions, 
I don’t believe there’s anything in ’em. A career, 
as you call it, may fool a woman for a few years, 
or maybe a woman may fool herself with it for a 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


9 


while, but she’ll come round to wantin’ a home 
of her own and a husband when she settles down to 
her senses. So I think when a girl has a good 
chance to marry, she ought to take it. Not wait 
till she’s tried ever’thing else and ’as got ’bout 
through the cane-patch, and then has to turn 
round and take the crooked stick after all. That’s 
my doctrine !” Her head went back and her chin 
came down over the flounce which she was placing 
on the skirt of the organdy gown. 

Camilla sat swaying herself uneasily on the rear 
posts of her chair; first bumping the back of her 
head against the door, and then coming down on 
the floor with her toes. 

“Go put on the waist of the dress,” commanded 
the mother. “I want to fit it, so I can sew on it 
while you finish the skirt. I’m anxious to get it 
off my hands, out of the way.” 

Camilla settled herself on the chair’s all-fours 
for a moment, and then rose to obey. 

The room on the right of the front door was the 
parlor; the one on the left, was Mr. and Mrs. 
Morgan’s bed-room, which was used also as the 
family sitting-room. These two rooms formed 
the arms of the T in the design of the building. 

It was into the latter that Camilla went. And 
on the foot of the bed she saw the piece of organdy 
which was intended for the bertha on her gown. 
She caught it up, carried it to the mirror, and 
noted the different effects as she arranged it about 
her shoulders. 

“I like the elaborate style best,” she thought; 
“it argues so well for the place that I would select 


10 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


for playing my part in life’s drama. I long for 
the city and its fussy ways. I’m tired, so tired, 
of living where I can see nothing nor nobody. 
Yes, I know I have more beaux than any other 
girl in the neighborhood.” 

Just then Mrs. Morgan bustled into the room 
to do the fitting. She went to Camilla, moved 
her chubby fingers over the plump figure, and 
said: 

‘'It needs takin’ up on the shoulders and lettin’ 
out a little under the arms.” 

“Let me show you about the bertha,” Camilla 
begged, rearranging it after her preferred fashion. 

“No, no; it ought to go this way,” said Mrs. 
Morgan, laying the article in the position of her 
choice. 

“Please, mother?” pleaded Camilla. 

''This is the way it ought to go.” Mrs. Morgan 
stepped back, viewed the arrangement with satis- 
faction, and said, “Now, that’s it!” 

Camilla was disappointed; her chin became as 
nearly pointed as was possible. However, she 
apparently acquiesced in her mother’s arrange- 
ment of the bertha. And when Mrs. Morgan re- 
turned to the hall, Camilla shouted a merry laugh. 

“A bertha is designed for the pleasure of some 
one,” the girl thought. “And, as my bertha is 
evidently not for my pleasure, it must be for 
mother’s. I hope mother ’ll enjoy it.” And she 
laughed again as the idea strengthened. 

The laughter convinced Mrs. Morgan of the 
wisdom of her ways, provoking a confidence to 
the arm of the sewing-machine: 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


II 


“She^ll decide to marry Bruce Turner after a 
while, too. She won’t hold to them fool notions 
long. It just comes from readin’ them ‘new 
women’ papers. Folks have run out of something 
to write about, that’s all. As if a ‘new woman,’ as 
they call ’em, wasn’t ever’ whit as much a woman 
as a old one. Any sensible body knows that it’s 
better for a girl to marry when she’s got a good 
chance than it is for her to live an old maid. 
Career, nothin’ ! It’s mostly old maids, I’m sure, 
that writes all this .nonsense — them that never had 
a chance such as Bruce Turner. If they think I 
can’t see through ’em, they’re mistaken. I’ll not 
let ’em fool a daughter of mine if I can help it.” 

If Mrs. Morgan had been fully aware of the 
kind of career which her daughter earnestly 
desired, the situation might have presented a less 
distressing aspect to her. While Camilla really 
did not wish to marry at that time, she entertained 
no desire to apply herself seriously to any pro- 
fession. She was tired of the life which she led, 
and wished for social contact with other young 
people, and for the pleasures incident to residence 
in a city. But Mrs. Morgan had never lent a 
sympathetic ear to her children: she commanded 
them. 

Camilla replaced the bertha on the bed, with a 
lingering touch, thinking, “I don’t blame you, for 
you look as if you ’ud rather help a girl look well 
than make her look plain. When I wear you. I’ll 
know you are doing your best anyway. It will 
amuse me to think how well we might have looked 
if we hadn’t been so snipped.” 


12 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


Then she joined her mother in the hall. They 
plied their needles diligently until the clock on the 
mantel-shelf in the living-room warned Mrs. 
Morgan that she must assist in the preparations 
for supper. For harvesting was in progress, and 
extra farm-laborers would be there again that 
evening. Mrs. Morgan rose to go, saying: 

'Tush the machine back by the stairway, and 
pick up the scraps.” 

"What must I do then ?” asked Camilla. 

"Go feed the chickens, and then drive up the 
turkeys; for Jim is helpin’ in the field, and won’t 
be in till dark.” Mrs. Morgan stepped back from 
the living-room, vigorously tying her blue and 
white checked apron around her short, thick waist. 

Then she walked briskly through the room to 
the back porch, which stretched across the end 
of the living-room and extended along one side of 
the dining-room and one side of the kitchen, form- 
ing with the dining-room and kitchen the long 
part of the T in the design of the building. 

"Maria, what have you been doin’ ?” Mrs. 
Morgan asked of the sleek-faced negro girl, who 
sat on the back steps of the porch, peeling and 
slicing potatoes. "You ought to ’ve cleaned off 
this porch first. Looks like you can’t learn that.” 

"But I done made the fire. Miss Jinny,” said 
Maria. 

"If you had spent the time in sweepin’ the porch 
instead of in rubbin’ that vaseline on your face it 
would ’ve helped along rhore.” 

Maria sulked and laid down her knife. 

"Come on, Camilla, and feed the chickens,” 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


13 


Mrs. Morgan called. Then she turned again to 
Maria and said : 

'‘Let me have the potatoes, Maria, and you go 
get some apples to fry.’’ 

Maria got up, dragged herself to the kitchen 
cupboard, and took out a tin pan and put it under 
her arm. Then she buttered a biscuit, and laid 
a slice of ham on top. This lunch she carried with 
her to sustain her under her exertions. Leisurely 
she sauntered in the direction of the apple tree 
in the front yard, and still more leisurely she 
picked the fruit from the tree. 

Mrs. Morgan finished the potatoes, sliced the 
tomatoes, and was placing the dishes on the 
supper-table when Maria appeared with the apples. 

"Hurry, Maria!” called Mrs. Morgan. "Don’t 
you know we are goin’ to have harvest-hands for 
supper?” 

"Yes’m, I’m hurryin’,” drawled Maria. 

Mrs. Morgan endeavored to stimulate the girl 
to livelier action by assuming a lightning-like 
speed herself, but Maria only recognized the 
advantage of permitting another to do the hurry- 
ing. 

Camilla had taken the parts of the unfinished 
gown and laid them across the stuffed velvet 
rocking-chair in the parlor. 

After she had put the hall in order, even to 
picking the bits of thread from the pile of the 
Brussels carpet, she passed through the front 
doorway into the yard. She went round the 
corner of the house ; the big chickens greeted her 
with their strong, impatient calls for food, and the 


14 


'AMONG THB MEADOWS 


little ones with their sharp, piercing cries. She 
took a much battered tin bucket and went out of 
the back yard gate toward the barn. 

The wood-shed, with its stack of corded wood 
and pile of sticks ready for the stove, lay on her 
right. A stretch of bluegrass sparsely dotted with 
red-oaks lay on the left. 

Camilla passed through the barn-shed to the 
crib within, and scooped the shelled corn from a 
box with both hands, and let it rattle into the tin 
pail, thinking that a chicken was an unpardonable 
nuisance for requiring to be fed. 

Once she stooped down by the box and gathered 
up a single handful of the grains and let them drop 
back through her fingers. Then she gathered up 
another handful and let it fall with greater force ; 
another, and threw it into the box with energy. 
She was aiming blows at her own environment, 
but she did not realize the fact. The act relieved 
the tension of her feelings, however, and enabled 
her to pursue the course of her errand. 

She finished filling the bucket, returned to the 
yard, and broadcasted the corn to the numerous 
fowls which welcomed her. 

^ She then brought a pone of corn bread from the 
kitchen cupboard and crumbled it into the coop 
for the little chickens. 

Two mother hens, with their young broods, 
were confined to their home shelters. They were 
located a neighborly distance from each other, and 
so Camilla stood sentinel for both at the same 
time. She marveled at the greediness of the fowls 


AMONG THB MBADOWS iS 

that had been fed, and wondered somewhat 
vaguely if people were ever like chickens in tres- 
passing on the privileges of the dependent after 
they had received their own portions. At length 
she lifted her stick and brought it down across 
the back of an approaching hen. Thus disabling 
her worst enemy, she went to the pump and sup- 
plied the drinking-basins with fresh water. 

With a final look at the mother hens, and a 
casual glance at the crippled fowl, which showed 
signs of recovery, Camilla went briskly around the 
house and down the gravel walk to the stile some 
fifteen yards away. She ascended the steps that 
faced the house, and went down the short ones 
on the opposite side of the yard-fence with that 
freedom of movement which nature allots to ro- 
bust youth. In this instance the actions were 
pleasing to watch, but marked with little grace. 

With her blue gingham sun-bonnet tucked 
under her arm, and her whitish shirt-waist some- 
what awry, she wandered through the wheat-field, 
calling, ‘Tee, pee, pee.” 

A distant, husky voice told of a turkey’s slow 
advance. 

“Yes, but not soon enough. Old hens, why 
can’t you bring yourselves home anyhow?” 
Camilla spoke aloud with only the shocks of yel- 
low wheat for audience. 

She bent over and drew an intruding head of 
wheat from the top of her boot. She stripped off 
the well rounded grains as she went through the 
field, thinking, “Pleasant evening walk, isn’t it? 
So smooth.” 


i6 AMONG THB MEADOWS 

She stumbled over a clod of earth, but recov- 
ered her former position with a laugh in her throat. 

'Tee, pee, pee,’’ she called. And another laugh 
rang out on the warm breeze. "Pee, pee, pee.” 
Then still another laugh rippled forth. 

"Old hen, do you know what you are?” she 
asked of the innocent offender when she met the 
first of the three big turkeys. "To my mind you 
’re just one of the city amusements that I long 
for. Why, yes, you are a skating-rink.” She 
threw a stone at another, saying, "And there’s the 
ballroom; but hurry up. Ballroom.” Upon see- 
ing the third hen, she remarked, "Here’s the 
opera house on this street. Your eyes, old hen, 
are the electric lights, reminding me of my box 
on the left of the stage. Why, to be sure, the 
curtain has risen, the play has begun — behold the 
actors.” The mother-hen moved off, and the little 
turkeys trooped after her. 

The sun was sinking beyond the hills. Great 
breadths of gold, and strips of Nile green, of red, 
of amethyst, and of purple were melted into the 
azure sky. Hues there were, too, to match the 
wild violet and the rose of delicate pink. The 
rounded brow of a green hill was crowned with a 
glimmer of this evening glory. Prom an edge of 
the level wheat-field stretched away a swelling 
slope of woodland, and among the leafy boughs 
a gay warbler trilled his merry song. The water 
played over the pebbles in a brook in the woods. 
A gentle wind carried the faint, delicious odor of 
the fresh wheat-straw hither and thither. 

There was beauty to greet the eye, fragrance 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


17 


the nostrils, music of the rill and of the feathered 
songster to delight the ear, but Camilla realized 
only that the sun was going down, and that her 
city amusements would not reach their destination 
before dark if the little turkeys continued to run 
against wheat-shocks. So she gathered up her 
apron and dropped the most imbecile of the flock 
into it. 

When she arrived at the barn-yard, she heard 
the nubbins falling into the trough for the cows’ 
evening feed. 

Mr. Cliff Morgan had left the field earlier than 
his laborers and had gone to the house to feed 
the hogs and milk the cows. 

^^Milly! bring me the buckets,” he called when 
he saw her coming. 

“Yes, sir; in a minute,” she answered. 

Camilla, wishing to avoid any extra exertions 
in behalf of the fowls, delayed her obedience until 
she had deposited her lapful of little turkeys with- 
in their pen, adjacent to their sleeping quarters. 

In the meantime, Mr. Morgan went after the 
buckets, saying in an undertone, “Milly’s gettin’ to 
like to have her own way ’bout things consider- 
able. She will have it, too, if her mother don’t 
set her foot down on it. But she never was what 
you ’ud call a bad child.” 

The spirit of the busy season was in Mr. 
Morgan’s fingers, and he sent the streams of milk 
into the tin pails with unusual vigor and speed. So 
when Camilla came to assist her father, she found 


i8 AMONG THU MBADOWS 

to her secret pleasure that he had nearly finished 
the task. 

She carried in the milk and strained it, but she 
did the work because it was expected of her, and 
not because she liked it. Maria thought that she 
was too busy to strain the milk soon, and Mrs. 
Morgan’s energetic ways would not permit it to 
wait until it grew cold. 

As Camilla went down the cellar steps with 
the last crock, she heard the slap of the barn-yard 
gate, and knew that the harvesters had come. 

She lighted the lamps for the supper table. As 
she put them in place, her mother entered the din- 
ing-room, mopping her face with the corner of her 
apron, saying: 

''Everything on the table? Camilla, call the 
men in. Maria, you go and be cleanin’ up in the 
kitchen ; Miss Milly ’ll wait on the table to-night.” 

Mr. Morgan led the way to the dining-room. 
He was tall, bald-headed, and smooth-faced. 

When the men were seated, Mrs. Morgan said : 

"Only two to-night, C. D.? Why, I thought 
there ’ud be more.” 

Camilla had objected repeatedly to her father 
being called C. D. "Somebody ’ll call him Mr. 
Seedy,” she had said. "Then some enterprising 
individual will get it Hayseedy, and I shall be 
famed as Miss Hayseedy.” But Mrs. Morgan 
would say "C. D.” 

"The others went home,” said Mr. Morgan, 
in answer to his wife’s question. Then he lifted 
a slice of boiled ham on his fork and served it to 
the person nearest him. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


19 


Camilla handed around the fried chicken, the 
fried apples, fried potatoes, biscuits, sliced toma- 
toes, butter, two kinds of preserves, milk yeast 
bread, cake, milk and coffee. 

After the last man had retired from the table, 
Mrs. Morgan said energetically: 

‘‘Camilla, take your plate and get off what you 
want, so Maria can carry out the dishes ; if s late.” 

“Ain’t there no colored uns?” inquired Maria, 
as she raked the scraps from the plates. 

“No, Maria; you just as well have saved your 
vaseline,” answered Camilla, laughing. 

About the time that Mrs. Morgan was trying 
the last bolt before going to bed, Camilla, in her 
room up-stairs, was planning to stay with her 
sister after preaching on the morrow. 


chafter II 


It was Sunday afternoon. 

In the long, low sitting-room on the east side of 
his house, Alvin Crane stretched his arms above 
his head and yawned a loud, laborious ‘‘Oh.” He 
threw his feet over the outer, lower corner of the 
couch to the floor, and drew his body to a sitting 
posture on the side of the velvet couch. 

He “Ohed” and yawned until the manifestations 
of his distress brought Joel and little Annie from 
their play in the back yard. 

“Papa, what is the matter with you?” each 
asked. 

“Why?” he said, rubbing his eyes, and drawing 
himself up to his full length on the floor. 

“Well, we heard you makin’ so much fuss, we 
thought maybe an old lion, or somethin’, had you,” 
answered Joel, jerking open the screen door, and 
thrusting in his head. “An old lion like was in 
the den with Daniel.” 

“But the lions did not hurt Daniel, did they, 
son ?” 

“They was good lions,” spoke up little Annie, 
flattening her nose against the wire of the door. 

“No, they wasn’t,” said Joel; “they couldn’t 
help theirselves. God locked their jaws.” 

“What made Him lock their jaws?” asked 
Alvin. 

“ ’Cause Daniel was a good man, and God didn’t 
want ’em to bite him,” Joel answered. “They ’re 
so mushy.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


21 


“Mushy” was the word which the children used 
to set their seal of disapproval upon anything, 
either animate or inanimate. 

“Come on, papa, and play with us,” begged 
Joel; “you said you would.” 

After expelling a final yawn, Alvin pushed the 
screen door open wider, and stepped down to the 
plank walk in the back yard. 

Ivittle Annie slipped her baby fingers in her 
father’s hand. 

“Let’s go get some apples,” said Joel, prancing 
along in front. 

“You must have your hat, then, baby.” 

“Well, you come and go with me,” she said. 
She led her father behind the kitchen, where 
blocks and bottles stood arrayed in ribbons of 
many colors and bright strings of various texture. 

“What’s all this?” Alvin asked, as little Annie 
ran to pick up her hat off the ground. 

“They are our people goin’ to church,” an- 
swered Joel. 

“Now!” said little Annie, replacing her hand in 
her father’s. Then the three turned in the direc- 
tion of the orchard. 

The children pounced upon the inferior fruit as 
Alvin knocked it from the tree. 

The father selected some of the best apples, and 
then he and the children returned to the house. 

Alvin Crane was of medium size, with pale blue 
eyes, light hair, and light mustache. As he sat 
in the back yard, leaning his chair against the 
house and looking down at Joel and little Annie 


22 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


on the grass, his face expressed a sense of re- 
sponsibility for the training of these little ones. 

‘'Son, who was the first man?” he asked, resort- 
ing to his method of instruction, customary on 
Sunday afternoons. 

“Eve,” spoke up little Annie, rolling away from 
her apples which she had placed in a nest of grass. 

“Eve was the woman,” prompted Joel ; “Adam 
was the man.” 

“Who were their children?” 

“Cain and Abel,” answered Joel. “Cain worked 
the ground, and Abel minded the sheep.” 

“I wish I had a sheep,” said little Annie. 

“It would knock you over,” said Joel, in a voice 
of warning. 

“Well, Abel’s didn’t,” piped the baby voice. 

“They do though nowadays, don’t they papa?” 
Joel said. “I don’t want any sheeps knockin’ me 
over.” Joel lay back on the ground, and threw 
his heels in the air, expressive of his aversion to 
a combat with a sheep. 

“Which was the good one, and which was the 
bad one, baby?” asked Alvin. 

“Abel was the good one, ’cause he had the 
sheep, and Cain was the bad one, ’cause he didn’t, 
I reckons.” Little Annie climbed into her father’s 
lap and tucked her head against his bosom. 

“Who was the meekest man?” pursued the 
questioner. 

“Moses,” answered Joel. 

“The strongest man?” 

“Samson!” said Joel. “I would like to be like 
Samson if it wasn’t for all that hair ; it would be as 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


23 


bad as them curls I wore when I was a little boy. 
Besides, people might think I was a woman.'’ 

‘‘Who were cast into the furnace of fire?” 

“I don’t know that,” responded Joel. 

“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.” 

“What mushy names!” exclaimed Joel, with a 
whistle. 

And Alvin Crane related the story of the three 
Hebrew children. 

“I wouldn’t like to be them,” sobbed little 
Annie, sympathetically. 

“But they didn’t get burnt,” said Joel. 

“Why not?” asked the father. 

“ ’Cause they trusted God,” answered Joel. 

“If we trust God, shall we get hurt?” continued 
the father. 

“What is trustin’ in God?” asked Joel. 

“It’s believing what God tells you is so. See, 
these Hebrew children believed that He would 
help them, and He will help us, too, if we look to 
Him.” Alvin was secretly astonished at the wis- 
dom of his counsel. As the truth of his teachings 
settled upon his conscience, he grew restless. So 
he said: 

“Come, let us take a walk.” 

“Oh, let’s ask Aunt Milly to go,” said Joel. 

“Let’s do,” said little Annie, following her 
brother up-stairs. 

“I don’t ’spect she’ll want to be bothered if she’s 
asleep,” said Joel, on the eve of opening Camilla’s 
door. 

“Aunt Milly, Aunt Milly,” called Joel when he 


^4 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


was within the room. “Oh, she is asleep,” he 
whispered to little Annie. 

“Aunt Milly, don’t you want to go?” asked 
little Annie, leaning on the side of the bed. 

“Go? Go where?” Camilla opened her eyes 
and closed them again. 

“To walk,” answered Joel. “Maybe we can find 
some snakes if papa ’ll go to the branch.” 

“Or f’owers,” said little Annie. 

“No; I don’t want either this afternoon,” said 
Camilla, groaning. 

“Well, I’ll bring you some f’owers,” said little 
Annie. 

“And I’ll bring you a snake,” said Joel. “But I 
thought maybe you would rather kill it yourse’f.” 

“No — all right — go ’long,” said Camilla, sleep- 
ily. 

“Come on,” said Joel. And the children ran 
back to their father. 

“She ain’t cornin’,” said Joel. “Which way, 
papa ? Let’s go to the branch.” 

“All right.” 

So the three went out of the sitting-room, 
across the yard, to the street. 

The hot air of the summer afternoon was made 
tolerable by a stirring breeze. 

The father sauntered on, holding little Annie’s 
hand. Joel, with his half-grown shepherd dog, 
Nep, ran along the pike in front, raising a cloud 
of dust. 

Upon arriving at the toll-gate, Joel stopped and 
waited for his father and sister. When they came 
up, he said: 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


25 


‘Tapa, let’s climb the fence and go through the 
field?” 

“Very well,” answered Alvin, stooping under 
the pole. 

The children laughed because they could walk 
under without bending. 

“You could, too, when you was a little boy, 
couldn’t you, papa?” said Joel, consolingly. 

Farther on Joel climbed the fence and Alvin 
helped little Annie over. Nep barked and ran 
along by the side of the fence until he and Joel 
together discovered a crack large enough for the 
dog to pass through. 

The field was grown up in grass and weeds, and 
so the father took little Annie on his back. Joel oc- 
casionally added fuel to the coals of his perseverance 
by sa)ring: 

‘T ’ud rather walk through it though then be a 
girl. I would.” 

When the party arrived at the stream, Alvin 
lowered httle Annie to the ground with a sense 
of considerable physical relief, for she was heavy 
for a child of four years. 

Alvin looked about for a comfortable place, and 
finally settled himself at the foot of a water-oak. 

The roots of the tree came out here and there. 
The children found pleasure in the number and 
variety of the seats, and changed from one to the 
other in quick succession. 

Nep selected a berth between two protruding 
roots, and curled up snugly for a nap. 

Several yellow butterflies lighted on the bank 


26 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


a few rods away, and Joel and little Annie ran to 
catch them. 

At length the children scampered back to show 
their treasures to papa, and with him deposited 
them. Then they sped away to pluck some blos- 
soming weeds. 

As they crammed each little left hand, they 
chattered about the flowers looking so very pretty 
and smelling so very bad. 

‘‘We'll give ’em to papa,” said little Annie; “he 
won’t mind.” 

Alvin Crane sat, leaning his back against the 
tree. His arms rested on his knees, and his right 
hand served as a lid for the other which held the 
children’s butterflies. He watched Joel and little 
Annie in their enjoyment, free from the anxieties 
and responsibilities with which mature years had 
freighted his own life. He first regretted that his 
own childhood could not have lasted always, and 
then that the children could not continue as they 
were. His reverie was interrupted by the chil- 
dren coming up and little Annie saying : 

“Papa, here is some f’owers for you.” And she 
placed them on his knee, while Joel laid his care- 
lessly on the ground beside his father. 

“Put ’em on, papa,” said little Annie. “Oh! 
you can’t without a pin, can you ?” She searched 
the front of her small frock, and then looked on 
the lapel of her father’s coat, picked out a pin, and 
fastened on the flowers. 

“They don’t smell good,” objected he. 

“But they looks so pretty, papa.” 

Alvin took his hat, dropped in the butterflies, 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


27 


and spread his handkerchief over the inverted 
brim. Then he gathered up Joel’s scattered 
flowers, selected some of the finest among them, 
and pinned them on the other lapel. 

“Now you looks so pretty, papa,” said little 
Annie, swaying her body with a gratified air. 

“Do you like ’em, son?” 

“Yes, sir; I like ’em. I like ’em better on you 
though then I would on myse’f. They smell too 
bad.” 

Alvin smiled and looked at Joel, who lay on his 
stomach, supporting his face with his hands, and 
striking the ground with first one set of toes and 
then the other. The yellow hair curled loosely 
about the fair face. The nobly-shaped head and 
quick gray eyes indicated to the father a promising 
youth. 

“They looks pretty, I think,” chirped little 
Annie, from her seat near Nep. 

“Who made the pretty flowers, baby?” 

“I know,” spoke up Joel; “God made ’em. He 
makes ever’thing.” 

The father said that a little bird might have 
carried the seeds, or the wind might have blown 
them thither. They lay on the ground, probably, 
until God sent His sunshine and His rain, and 
then the pod burst, and the plant grew. 

“That’s the way God makes ’em, is it?” asked 
Joel. “God has different ways of makin’ things, 
hasn’t He? He makes the butterflies, but they 
don’t grow on stems, do they?” 

Alvin explained the development of the butter- 


28 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


fly, much to the pleasure and astonishment of the 
children. Then he said : 

“One time God made a little baby smaller than 
you are, Annie. That little baby grew to be a 
man, and that man was nailed on a cross. Who 
was he? 

“Jesus,’^ answered Joel. 

“Jesus loves you and little Annie, and He wants 
you to do right, so you will go to heaven when 
you die.” 

“Well, I loves Him to,” said little Annie. 

“Jesus was a little boy once, just my size, wasn’t 
He?” said Joel. “I reckon people just get good 
after they are men.” 

“Tittle boys can be good too. Badness makes 
dirty places on the soul. Jesus can get it clean 
afterwards, but the dirt leaves scars.” 

“Whew!” exclaimed Joel. Then he slid down 
the bank into the shallow brook. 

He splashed along in the water. His slipping 
now and then brought forth shouts of laughter 
from little Annie as she followed on the bank. 

Finally, the attitude of spectator became un- 
satisfactory to her, and she called to her father, 
saying : 

“Papa, I want to get in too.” 

Alvin rose, stretched his stiffened muscles, and 
went to little Annie. She was trying to tuck up 
her little pants in imitation of her brother, who 
had rolled the legs of his trousers to his thighs. 
The father completed the arrangement the best 
that his bungling fingers could, and lifted the child 
into the water with the warning : 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


29 


'"Be careful, or you’ll fall. Hold up your dress.” 

In compliance, little Annie rolled the front of 
her frock to her arm-pits. The back swept the 
top of the water or dragged beneath as the depth 
of the water varied. 

Alvin thought that little Annie looked very 
pretty as she waded up the stream. Her golden 
curls framed a face of regular features. Her large, 
blue eyes sparkled with joy, and her red lips 
opened and closed over pearly teeth, as the 
pleasure became more or less exhilarating. 

Nep splashed in and out of the water. 

“I must get Aunt Milly’s snake,” Joel said, after 
a while. 

‘^Aunt Milly’s snake?” said Alvin. ‘‘Oh, she 
doesn’t want a snake.” 

“I told her I ’ud bring her one.” 

“Come on; we must go home now,” said the 
father. “Here’s the bridge. We’ll go by a 
different way this time.” 

As Joel ascended the bank, he slipped down into 
the mud. 

“Whew !” he said, and then dipped up one hand- 
ful of water after another and washed the seat of 
his pantaloons. 

“Now, I’m all right!” he declared. “Mamma 
won’t get me.” The child climbed out near his 
father, who was drying the feet and legs of little 
Annie with his handkerchief. 

“Here, son.” And Alvin wiped this pair of 
feet and legs. 

The party climbed through a pair of bars, and 
went up the pike, home. 


30 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Camilla could not go back to sleep after the 
children awoke her. So she got up, and by and by 
went down-stairs into her sister^s room. 

When Camilla entered, Nina looked up from 
her novel, and Camilla said: 

‘‘The kids woke me up and I thought I’d come 
down and see what you were doing.” 

“How comes you didn’t want to stay at home 
this afternoon ? Does Bruce or anybody else 
know you are here?” 

“Nobody knows I’m here that I’m aware of,” 
answered Camilla, yawning. “I don’t want to see 
anybody. Is your book any good ? Oh, I want a 
new sensation. I think I’ll go to County Court 
to-morrow.” 

“To County Court? You’re a strange crea- 
ture.” 

“Yes, ma’am ; thank you. I’m going home now.” 

“But Alvin is not here to get your horse.” 

“I can get him, for that matter. He probably 
has on the harness.” 

After Camilla left, Nina changed her dowdy 
wrapper for a fresh percale shirt-waist and a linen 
skirt. While she was dressing, she wondered why 
her sister was discontented. She thought that 
Camilla could have all that heart would wish for. 
She, though, was married to a man who could not 
support her in the style to which she was accus- 
tomed in her girlhood days. Besides, the heroine 
of the novel which she had been reading had ser- 
vants at her call, while Nina’s only servant was 
absent on Sunday evening. As she stood before 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


31 


the mirror fastening her collar, she thought of the 
change which her face had undergone, and attrib- 
uted the altered expression to the trials she had 
endured. But she did not think of the different 
ways of enduring trials, or that her expression 
might be due somewhat to the manner in which 
she endured hers. 

At length she opened the bed-chamber door 
and crossed the hall through which Alvin and the 
children had gone. 

She observed them indifferently when they 
passed the window where she sat reading; but 
now she grumbled at their staying out late. 

She went about, placing the lunch on the table 
and complaining of her distaste for domestic work. 

‘"The first bell has rung,” she murmured. ‘‘Why 
doesn’t Alvin bring the children home ? He knows 
I want to go to church to-night.” 

Alvin stepped into the room and asked pleas- 
antly : 

“Why, is it supper-time?” 

“Indeed it is!” she declared. “What in the 
world do you want with those vile-smelling weeds 
on your coat? Take ’em off.” 

“Oh, no; they looks pretty,” protested little 
Annie. 

Alvin began apologetically: 

“The children — ” 

“The children!” broke in Nina. “Yes; you’ll 
do anything they want you to do. I wouldn’t wear 
weeds to please them, I know. Weeds! now 
that’s helpin’ me to cultivate their taste, ain’t it? 
I’ll never be able to do anything with them. 


33 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Annie, what is your dress doing so wet?” she 
asked as she lifted the child to her tall chair. 
‘‘Your father let you get in the branch, didn’t 
he?” 

“Maybe Fm glad I left Aunt Milly’s snake out- 
doors,” thought Joel, slipping into his chair, 
hoping to keep his mother from seeing his wet 
clothes. 

“Go on to church, Nina, if you want to,” said 
Alvin; “we can get along. I hear the door-bell. 
I expect Mrs. Barton has come to go with you.” 

“Put the children to bed right away,” she said. 
“I always do when you go on Sunday night.” And 
she left the room. 

Soon little Annie began to nod between 
mouthfuls. 

Alvin rose, carried the child into the bed- 
chamber, undressed her, and laid her in her bed. 

He stooped over her and brushed back her 
curls from her face, saying, “My baby.” Then 
he turned away with his pulse beating to the 
music of a broader life. 

“Papa, tell me a tale,” greeted Joel. 

The father removed the lamp to the sitting- 
room. He seated himself and told over tales that 
had been told many times before to the same auditor. 

“Now you’d better go to bed,” said Alvin, 
when the stroke of the clock reminded him that 
meeting was almost over. “I forgot your pants, 
son. I ’spect you ought to have taken them off.” 

“But mamma didn’t see ’em, did she?” said the 
child. His voice and manner indicated that the 
wet article itself was of small consequence. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


33 


As footsteps sounded on the veranda, Joel 
jumped into bed, and drew the sheet over his head. 

When Nina Crane entered the room she asked 
her husband what he was smiling about, but he 
did not tell her. 


3 


CHAPTI:r III 


Captain Morgan came up the back walk, car- 
rying his coat on his arm. He stopped in front 
of his daughter, who sat on the back porch, paring 
apples for jelly. Then he took off his Sunday 
straw hat, drew his handkerchief from the hip- 
pocket of his linen pantaloons, wiped the perspi- 
ration from his forehead and asked : 

‘‘How is mother feeling this afternoon?” 

“Better, I think ; she is on the veranda.” 

“Why, I didn’t see her as I rode up through the 
lawn. I’ll go out there.” 

He crossed the porch, and entered the hall 
which led to the front door. 

Helen put her pan on top of the jar into which 
she had thrown the prepared fruit. Then she rose 
and placed a lunch on the table for her father. 

She raised the drop-leaf of the table, drew out 
the leg carefully, and held this with one hand, 
while she laid the leaf in position with the other. 

This table was cast aside many years ago as 
useless. But when the fire destroyed Captain 
Morgan’s home, the table was saved while more 
valuable articles were left to burn. Now it served 
as dining-table. It stood in the kitchen during 
cold weather, and on the back porch in warm 
weather. 

“Mother, did you come out by yourself?” asked 
Captain Morgan of the pale-faced little woman on 
the veranda. 

“Helen helped me,” answered Mrs. Morgan, in 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


35 


a voice that told of suffering. “I wanted to go 
out where she was, but it was too warm there.’’ 
She nervously twisted and untwisted one set of 
thin fingers about the other. 

‘‘Don’t set up too long,” said the captain. He 
sat down on the top step and leaned against a 
post. “This has been a hot day,” he remarked; 
“but I never saw a bigger crowd in town in my 
life, I think.” 

“What do so many men go for, anyhow? You 
never see any ladies, do you?” 

“No; not many ladies. I don’t know what so 
many men do go for; some have business, of 
course, and a good many go just because others 
go, I reckon.” 

“If that was a crowd of women, goin’ just to be 
goin’, wouldn’t you men talk about it though ?” 

“If it was my wife and she wanted to go ’long 
with the other women, I wouldn’t say a word,” he 
replied, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I just 
wish she could.” He reached up and patted her 
hands. Then the twinkle was replaced with a 
look of sadness. Taking a bottle of medicine from 
his hip-pocket, he handed it to her. 

“Yes, I forgot to tell you to bring it,” said Mrs. 
Morgan. “I never thought of it this mornin’ till 
you were out of sight. But I have been thinkin’ 
about it off and on all day.” 

“Before I got to town I remembered that I 
hadn’t asked you how near out you were. I had it 
on my mind all mornin’ until I went and got it, 
thinkin’ then I ’ud be on the safe side.” 

“Take it in the room with you, won’t you? 


36 


AMONG THH MBADOWS 


You’d better go ’long and get your dinner. Helen 
is ready for you by this time, I expect.” 

“Vm not hungry much, but I reckon I better 
eat a snack. I ought to change my clothes first 
though.” 

He picked up his hat and placed it over the 
bald spot on his head, around which was a fringe 
of curly, sandy hair streaked with white. He got 
up, and with long strides swung his tall, angular 
figure into the first room on the right of the front 
door. This room served as sleeping apartment 
for him and Mrs. Morgan and as the family sitting- 
room. 

As he put on his shabby and somewhat soiled 
clothes, he groaned. He tried to conceal his suf- 
ferings in Mrs. Morgan’s presence. For he real- 
ized that she, in her feeble condition, required all 
the cheer that he could give her. But when alone 
he often gave vent to his feelings in this way. And 
to-day he indulged himself still further, by say- 
ing: 

‘T wouldn’t have thought that I would ever 
have to put on clothes just because they were old 
and dirty. I wouldn’t have thought it! That’s 
bad ’nough, but if that was all, it wouldn’t matter 
much. If it was only myself who had to suffer, it 
wouldn’t be so bad. For Helen and mother to 
have to suffer, though, it makes me right sick.” 
He closed the closet door, and then opened it, and 
gently pushed within the white muslin wrapper 
which had prevented the door’s fastening, think- 
ing: 

‘^That’s mother’s. Poor mother! If she hadn’t 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


37 


got hurt it wouldn’t be so bad. But now, when 
she’s an invalid, and needs a comfortable home, 
I have to see her live in this four-room shanty and 
suffer. If it was just myself who had the troubles 
to bear I could see how the Lord might have 
meant to take my mind off worldly affairs and 
make me think about Him and the hereafter.” 

He sank into a chair, and looked out of the side 
window into the yard. He saw nothing within 
view; he was only thinking: 

“Once I had money in the bank, money to lend ; 
but that security debt took all that, every cent, 
and more besides. Then one streak of bad luck 
followed right after another. Finally, I was so 
pressed that I sold off some of my land. The fire 
swept away my house and barn. The cholera 
killed my hogs. My cattle died. Wonder why 
it all should have happened? Maybe my way of 
livin’ had something to do with it. I don’t know. 
Nobody knows about things like that, I reckon.” 
He shifted his position, and continued: 

“It looks like the Lord might have saved me 
all this if he just would have done it. I used to 
pray ; yes, I know that. How did I pray though ? 
I want to be honest about the matter. What did 
I ask the Lord to do ? As well as I can remember, 
I think I asked Him to help me prosper in the 
world. Really, I think I put ’bout all the pressure 
I could on the Lord to get Him to lift up Captain 
Morgan in the eyes of the world. I wanted the 
world’s gaze directed at Captain Morgan, and the 
world’s finger pointed at Captain Morgan as a 
Somebody. 


38 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“I used to swell with pride when I met the men 
on the streets in town, or dong the pike, and they 
lifted their hats, and said, ‘How-do-you-do, Cap- 
tain Morgan.’ For they spoke with an air of respect 
due to a Somebody. 

“To-day I met some of the same men, and they 
hurried on, barely grunting, ‘Homin’ Cap.’ Once 
I looked down at my clothes, but they was all 
right. I couldn’t make it out at the time, but I 
know now. They knew I wasn’t livin’ in my fine 
house, and was havin’ hard luck. So it didn’t 
make any difference, they thought. It served me 
just the same as if they had slapped me in the face, 
and said, ‘You are a Nobody now.’ 

“Why did I ever care about folks callin’ me a 
Somebody, anyhow? God don’t look down on 
folks because they haven’t got anything. That 
don’t make ’em ^ Nobody in His eyes. 

“O God, teach me how to be a Somebody in 
Thy sight,” he spoke aloud. Then he fell on his 
knees, and poured out his heart with a fervor 
which he had never known in his prosperous 
years. 

He rose determined to serve the Ford in the 
Lord’s way, and not with the hope of using the 
Lord to advance his temporal interests. 

“Father, your dinner is waiting,” called Helen. 

“Oh! I forgot the child was expecting me. I 
forgot the dinner.” He left the room, and passed 
down the hall to the porch. 

“Child, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting so 
long,” he apologized, as he drew out the chair, 
and seated himself at the table. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


39 


“Never mind, that didn’t keep me from my 
work,” replied Helen, again putting aside her 
apples to serve the few dishes. 

“Set down, I can wait on myself,” said the cap- 
tain. 

As Helen resumed her work, her father asked: 

“What have you been doing to-day? Have you 
drawn any?” Then he remembered that he had 
intended giving her the best training with her 
pencil and brush. Now he could not. “O God, 
it is hard!” he thought. 

He never knew that Helen did not reply to his 
questions. When he looked at her again, he sup- 
posed that her weary expression was due wholly 
to physical strain. So he said: 

“Get me a knife, and I’ll help you in a few min- 
utes.” 

Her protestations availing nothing, Helen rose, 
unfastened her apron, and tied it around her fa- 
ther’s neck. Then she placed a pan of apples in 
his lap. 

She learned her methods of household manage- 
ment partly from her mother’s suggestions and 
partly from personal experience. Her father 
watched her as she moved about the porch, dis- 
charging some of the many small duties that are 
connected with housekeeping, which make little 
show when done, and count for much when 
omitted. And Captain Morgan secretly lamented 
that his daughter could not be free to employ her 
time in pursuits better designed to promote cul- 
ture. So with both pleasure and pain he observed 
the tall, graceful figure; the mass of auburn hair. 


40 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


from which had strayed tiny ringlets as if to pay 
independent tribute to the fair skin ; the soft 
brown eyes which revealed to him a nature fitted 
for the highest things. He groaned aloud, letting 
his knife fall against the side of the pan. 

The noise arrested Helen’s attention, and she 
thought that her father had been napping. So 
she said : 

“You are tired; you have had a long ride. Go 
lie down. I’ll soon finish the apples.” And she 
took the pan, removed the apron from his neck, 
and then seated herself at the work. 

‘T hate to see father do things of this kind, and 
he will insist on helping me. I breathe more 
freely now that he is up and out of that apron.” 
These were her thoughts as she cut spots of decay 
from some of the pieces which her father had thrown 
into the jar. “He did not notice, and I could not 
risk wounding him by telling him that he wasn’t 
doing it right. 

“How coarse this makes my fingers look ! But 
it’s no use to try to keep them nice. Oh, it’s 
dreadful to have to be always doing things that I 
don’t like to do, and to have no time for the 
things that I like! I wish I could have a chance 
to draw! When I am through, I’m so tired that 
I can’t draw then to do any good. It’s dreadful !” 
And she shaped a slice of apple into a D, and laid 
it on a jar of fruit. 

She looked at the letter and thought: “That 
D ought to be larger, for so many things in my 
life come under the head of dreadful. There are 
cooking, washing dishes, churning, sweeping, and 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


41 


many more” And she took a whole apple, and 
fashioned it into a thick, chunky D. She got up 
and hung it on the post near her, and took the 
smaller letter and hung it on top of the other. 

“Dreadful! dreadful!” she exclaimed, sinking 
back into her chair. “How I wish there had been 
no losses, no fire, no injury for mother. It’s a 
wonder she didn’t get burned up in the house. If 
they hadn’t found her when they did she would 
have burned. As it was, that heavy piece of 
timber nearly crushed the life out of her. Her 
suffering has been awful ! awful !” And she made 
the letter A from a piece of apple, and tossed it 
out on the pavement. 

“When father sent for me to come home, rather 
back from my visit, and I found mother about to 
die, and the house gone, I thought it would kill 
me. Kill me!” And a K flew from under her 
knife, and fell at the foot of the plum tree in the 
yard. “But I didn’t die. I don’t see why I didn’t. 
I thought for a while I surely should.” 

She rose, went to a bench in the yard, and 
brought back another jar, into which she put half 
of the fruit. Then she placed the jars on a shelf, 
and finished filling them with water. 

She returned to the pan of rejected pieces, 
thinking: “The pigs would like to have these. 
The pigs! I didn’t have to think what the pigs 
would like to have in the old days. And I draw 
back my skirts from them now. 

“But I give you the scraps anyhow, don’t I?” 
she said a few minutes later, knocking the pan 
against the fence. “And you would just as soon 


42 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


have them from an unwilling hand as a willing one, 
wouldn’t you ? It does not wound your sensi- 
bilities, that I’m not a cheerful feeder of swine, 
does it? But you are fine fellows. I like you well 
enough ; it’s that I don’t like doing for you.” 

Then she lifted her skirts to her shoe-tops and 
walked away, driving her heels into the ground 
with force. 

The lengthening shadows on the bluegrass gave 
warning that many errands remained to be done 
before night. So Helen hastened on, and about 
her duties. 

Mrs. Morgan sat on the veranda that afternoon 
longer than usual. Her room was very warm, 
for one reason. For another. Captain Morgan 
entertained her with the news that he had gathered 
during the morning. 

After talking a while Mrs. Morgan asked: 

''Did Mrs. Ross invite them to spend the sum- 
mer, or did they come for just a week or two?” 

"Well, I never asked,” answered the captain. 
"I suppose for just a week or two, but I don’t 
know.” 

"Was it a jam-cake, or a cream-cake that Nina 
was bakin’ this mornin’ ?” 

"Well, I don’t know,” confessed the captain, 
humbly. "She came down to the stile, and called 
to me as I was passing, and wanted to know how 
you were. She had some flour on her apron, and 
she folded one side of it over the other, saying 
she was baking cake.” 

"A cream-cake, I expect, for she likes cream- 
cake. Alvin likes jam-cake the best. She has 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


43 


that sometimes when she has company, I think; 
but just for themselves she usually bakes cream- 
cake. At least I think so from what IVe heard 
her say. She didn’t say who went with Camilla to- 
day, did she?” 

“No; she didn’t say.” 

“Did you see Camilla?” 

“Yes; I met her on the street.” 

“What was she doin’ there?” 

“Well, I asked her how she happened to be 
there to-day. She said she had never been to 
town on County-Court day, and she wanted to see 
what it was like.” Then Captain Morgan secretly 
congratulated himself for having asked all neces- 
sary questions in that instance. 

“Camilla likes to see just to be seeing, I think. 
She is dissatisfied at home for some reason. I 
heard her talkin’ to Helen the other day. It’s a 
shame for a girl to be dissatisfied when she has a 
nice home, and ever’thing nice around her. She 
ought to appreciate what her parents have done 
for her. Is she goin’ back home to-night?” 

Captain Morgan scratched his head. His 
thoughts beat ab^out like a startled canary in a 
cage when the sticks are out. There was nothing 
on which to light, and he was forced to admit that 
he did not ask. 

“Well, I could find out more in an hour than 
you can in a week,” said Mrs. Morgan. ‘"Did 
Mr. Conway say that his wife’s sister would leave 
Friday or Monday? You never asked, did you?” 
A faint smile crossed the wan face. “I don’t know 
what ’tis you men talk about.” 


44 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


The captain leaned over, and stroked his wife’s 
hair apologetically, saying : 

‘Tf you just knew it, mother, white hair is more 
becoming to you than black hair.” 

‘‘Now, father, don’t!” A reflection was forming 
itself into a sigh when the pair were startled by a 
voice which said: 

“I think so too.” 

“Why, Uncle Dan! How are you? Come in. 
I didn’t see you.” Captain Morgan advanced 
toward the visitor, and extended his hand. “The 
vines are so thick we can’t see through ’em very 
well.” 

“Uncle Dan” was the title that Mr. Richard- 
son’s pocket of sweetmeats and ready stories won 
for him from the children of the neighborhood. 
Older people followed the example, and he came 
to be thus familiarly addressed by all. But the 
heavy suit of brown hair showed only a few 
streaks of white, and the deliberate movements of 
the stout figure were not from old age. 

“I thought I ’ud ride by, an’ see how Mrs. Mor- 
gan was, as we hadn’t heerd in several days,” 
Uncle Dan said. 

“She’s feelin’ some better this afternoon,” said 
the captain. He believed that she was, and Mrs. 
Morgan, did not undeceive him, though she 
thought, “How little they all know about it.” 

“I’m suttenly glad to hear it! Bruce an’ I was 
talkin’ ’bout her las’ night. I was tellin’ him ’bout 
how pooty she was when she was a girl. Bruce 
he said she was pooty yit.” 

“Uncle Dan, I think I must look very bad, or 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


45 


you all wouldn’t take so much trouble to tell me 
how well I look,” said Mrs. Morgan. ‘‘It wouldn’t 
matter to me how I looked if I could feel well.” 
And she thought that she did not care; but now 
as she was still regarded as pretty, she spoke with 
a new sense of indifference toward her good looks. 

“Did Bruce buy a horse to-day?” asked Cap- 
tain Morgan. “I saw him looking at one.” 

“Buy a horse?” said Uncle Dan. “Shucks, if 
he didn’t! I tole him I ’ud ride the horse home, 
an’ so Bruce he went on an’ lef’ me. An’ as soon 
as I clapt the saddle on the critter, don’t you know 
he commenced to rear and plunge. I sez, ‘Hello, 
don’t you know you’ve got to pack Uncle Dan 
home? Uncle Dan ain’t a-goin’ to walk it.’ Well, 
sir, when I put my foot in the stirrup, it started 
him off like a whirligig. I managed to git in the 
saddle at las’, an’ then I tapped him with one 
heel, not knowin’ jes’ what to expect from him. 
Lan’ sakes! his hind heels flewed up in the air 
jes’ like they’d been called on fer to do so. An’ 
as I didn’t want to figger at gittin’ on agin, I 
clamped my arms round his neck an’ swung to 
him fer dear life. He must ’ve thought I meant to 
choke him, fer he lit out from there as fas’ as them 
heels of hisn could take him. I whoaed to him. 
an’ I whoaed, but, sir, go he would. He ’ud pay no 
’tention to me. Shucks, if he would! Onct I 
straightened up, an’ that sent him to rearin’ an’ 
plungin’ agin. Atter that, I was glad ’nough to 
stay stretched out, fer I thought mebbe I could 
live through the runnin.’ I passed some fellers on 
the pike, an’ they ast me what was the matter, but 


46 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


I couldn’t explain to my own satisfaction, nor to 
theirn. So if you hear Uncle Dan got drunk in 
town to-day, you tell ’em it wasn’t him, it was 
his horse.” 

As soon as her laughter would permit, Mrs. 
Morgan asked : 

^‘Did you get home all right?” 

“Well, yas’m; I got home. But I ain’t a-ridin’ 
him this time. Who do you reckon seen me 
goin’ through the performance of gittin’ started?” 

“Don’t know,” admitted Mrs. Morgan. 

“Camilla. Camilla was goin’ ’long by the stable 
when I was fetchin’ the horse out. I holloed to 
her, an’ she stopped to see who it was. I tole her 
I was goin’ to ride a new horse home. I got on, 
or tried to, an’ the horse he commenced. Miss 
Milly she did laugh. I bet she thought she was 
paid fer her trip to town. She didn’t have no busi- 
ness in town to-day, nohow. Miss Helen wouldn’t 
’a’ been ketched on the street if she could ’a’ 
helped it when there was sech a crowd o’ men 
there, but Camilla, shucks! Gib my regards to 
Miss Helen.” And Uncle Dan rose to leave. 


CHAPT^JR IV 


Sunday afternoon was bright and warm. Bruce 
Turner put the harness on his horse, and led her 
to the well in the back yard, where he poured 
fresh water into a basin for her to drink. Then 
he fastened her to a cedar tree which stood near. 

This tree was planted by Bruce Turner's great- 
grandfather, and was therefore held in reverence 
by succeeding generations. While the thought 
of removing it would have been an unholy one 
to the present proprietor of the homestead, the 
practical young man of five and twenty believed 
that he made the best use of it possible; for, 
through the iron staple which he had driven into 
the tree, he frequently fastened a hitching-strap. 

“Be still, old girl," he said, somewhat affection- 
ately on this occasion as he stroked the long black 
mane. This, however, was a superfluous com- 
mand, for Venus showed no special signs of rest- 
lessness then, nor did she ever, except when left 
standing to a vehicle. And this aversion of hers 
was always properly respected. 

But Bruce's lips had given expression to more 
than one remark during the afternoon of which 
his mind had taken little cognizance. For he had 
been busy framing a certain proposition. 

When he was in college he composed orations, 
and delivered them. He even spoke on several 
public occasions. At his first appearance, it is 
true that his voice trembled for a few sentences, 
but he shifted his weight to the other foot, and 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


recovered his self-command. He bestowed 
thought upon the composition of these speeches, 
to be sure, but the character of the present ad- 
dress rendered the labor much more difficult than 
the former tasks were. 

On this Sunday afternoon he believed that he 
could have composed an oration on a stated sub- 
ject, and have delivered it before a vast audience 
with all ease. But with what he must do, he 
struggled violently. First, he framed an eloquent 
discourse on “The Necessity of Love for the 
Highest Development of Mankind.” This he 
considered would serve his purpose admirably, but 
decided that Camilla would be sure to laugh at 
the unusual display of rhetoric. Then he thought 
that he would elaborate “The Disadvantages of 
a Woman Always Living Single,” only to recall 
the fact that Camilla had frequently spoken 
warmly of the superior advantages of “bachelor 
maids” over their married sisters. At length he 
selected “Duty That a Man Owes His Wife,” as 
an appropriate subject to lead to the question. 
“That’s it, exactly,” he decided. “Captain Mor- 
gan’s example furnishes good ideas.’* 

He reviewed the subject, adding new touches 
of eloquence, as he dried his hands on the roller 
towel on the back porch. He drew the towel over 
the roller until each spot on it had served its office 
many times. 

The screak of the roller in the socket drew 
Uncle Dan’s attention from his newspaper. 

He noted Bruce’s movements for a short time 
in silence, and then asked: 


AMONG THH MBADOWS 


49 


“Whafs the matter with yer ban’s?” 

"‘Nothing; why?” Bruce released the towel, 
and turned round wholly unconscious of the vio- 
lence to which he had subjected the article. 

“I thought mebbe,” Uncle Dan said. But the 
expression on Bruce’s face prevented Uncle Dan’s 
saying just what he thought. 

Bruce went to his bed-room, a spacious apart- 
ment on the right of the large hall from the rear 
entrance. Afterwards, Uncle Dan soliloquized: 

“Well, he’ll never be young but onct. She’ll do 
well to git ’im too. He’s a fine feller. A little 
hasty sometimes, mebbe. Some folks would say 
so, I reckon. A generouser heart, though, no- 
body ever had. Fine feller. 

“But I ain’t sure ’bout it goin’ to ’gree with me 
to have a woman come here, mekin’ things un- 
comfortably nice. Bruce an’ me jog on pooty 
well as ’tis. Aunt Jane gives us plenty to eat, ef 
she don’t put it on the table in much style. Then 
I kin go round here in my bare feet when it’s hot, 
an’ I couldn’t do that ef there was a woman about. 
Shoo flies!” And he flirted a newspaper in his 
face, went to the pump, and drew himself a drink 
of water. 

As he rested between swallows, he feebly artic- 
ulated, “I can’t say nothin’, though, he gimme a 
home.” A fact which he never admitted directly, 
even to himself, and always spoke of it as, “I’m 
stayin’ with Bruce a while.” This was his fourth 
year there. 

When Bruce reappeared he was arrayed in his 
4 


50 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Sunday clothes. The smooth fit revealed the 
large, well-built figure. The white straw hat sat 
firmly on the dark brown hair, and deepened the 
expression of strength in the smooth, sunburnt 
face. The blue-gray eyes looked out on the fa- 
miliar scenes with stronger purposes than they 
had done before. However, in Bruce's demeanor 
there was a peculiar nervousness which Uncle 
Dan’s keen gaze detected. Yet any admission of 
such knowledge Uncle Dan sought to avoid by 
saying : 

“Ready? I’ll hitch up fer you, then.” Uncle 
Dan frequently put Venus to the buggy for Bruce 
on Sunday afternoons, out of deference for “the 
boy’s” Sunday clothes. 

“Well, I ’ud leave off my coat till I got there,” 
said he. 

The remark afforded Bruce a momentary es- 
cape from his deep thoughts. Soon, however, his 
mind leaped back to its former channel. And as 
he drove along, he became oblivious of the little 
graveyard on the hillside in which some of his 
ancestors lay; of the green field to his right in 
which grazed several head of cattle and some of 
the large horses of which the county is justly 
proud. He turned round the corner of the rock 
fence, and went past the strip of woods to the pike- 
gate. 

When Bruce was a child his father died, and 
during his senior year at college his mother died. 
He had no brothers nor sisters. But he thought 
that he was fortunate in his occupation. He 
averred that hoeing and plowing made him feel 


AMONG THE MEADOWS Si 

strong and honest. Horses he loved with the 
ardor that courses through the veins of all true 
Kentuckians. 

He collected choice books, which he delighted 
many of his spare hours. The majority of these 
he kept in a large walnut bookcase in the front end 
of the hall. 

Thither Uncle Dan repaired after Bruce’s de- 
parture. He selected a volume of Shakespeare 
“to see what it’s about.” Then he seated himself, 
book in hand, on the front veranda, and tilted his 
chair against the brick wall. He read a few lines, 
and then looked out on the front yard, and said, 
“I ’ud thought a boy of his build would have 
chose a book with more meanin’ to it then this has 
got; but there’s no accountin’ fer a feller when 
he’s in love.” 

Uncle Dan really did not desire to see what 
Shakespeare “was about,” or what any other book 
“was about,” for that matter. He only equipped 
himself thus to keep from thinking about Bruce’s 
marrying. 

But as the book proved to be very dull to him, 
his resolutions failed, and he speculated concern- 
ing Bruce’s chances: 

“Well, mebbe she won’t have ’im after all. His 
property won’t cut any figger with her, I ’low. 
Not that she don’t like money well ’nough, but 
she’s always had a plenty, an’ so she don’t act’ally 
know what a good thing ’tis. Her folks ’ll be in 
fer it. But Camilla has a mind o’ her own, I think, 
ef it’s set in a-nother direction. Ef ’tis! I don’t 
know though that ’tis. I wisht I did 1 


52 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


^^Camilla, well, Camilla she won’t mek much of 
a wife nohow, unless it be she ’ud quit her foolish- 
ness. And I don’t b’lieve she’s ready to quit that 
yit. I don’t b’lieve she is. I think she’s a long 
way from where she would mek a fitten wife fer 
Bruce. I ’ud hate to see him git bit in the trade. 
I know a-nother what ’ud suit ’im heap better ef 
he would jes’ think so. But that’s somethin’ what 
a feller wants to be his own jedge about. Some- 
times he ain’t much of a jedge, but he ginerally 
thinks he is. Mebbe though Camilla won’t have 
’im.” 

While Uncle Dan was ruminating and Bruce 
was drawing nearer and nearer his destination, 
Camilla, in her bed-room, was engaged in a con- 
versation with her mother. 

“What are you goin’ to put on ?” inquired Mrs. 
Cliff Morgan of her daughter, who was lounging 
on a sofa near the open window. She drew aside 
first one dress-skirt and then another in search 
of apparel worthy of the occasion. 

“It doesn’t matter much, does it?” Camilla re- 
plied. “It doesn’t matter to me,” she thought. 

“He hasn’t seen you in your organdy,” said the 
mother; “wear that. It’s so becomin’ to you.” 
She endeavored to inspire her daughter with some 
of her own enthusiasm. 

“I would rather not, mother,” said Camilla, 
thinking of the despised bertha. 

“Why not. I’d like to know? It’s the very 
thing !” 

“Because. Because I would rather not.” She 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


53 


was afraid to give her real reason, and was too 
truthful to give a false one. 

“Because ain’t a good reason for anything,” de- 
clared Mrs. Morgan. “When a girl has a good 
dress I don’t see why she can’t wear it.” 

She took down the skirt from the two hooks 
over which the band had been stretched, and 
spread it out on the snowy counterpane. Then 
she went to the large oak dressing-case, drew 
open the middle drawer, and took out the waist. 
She placed this on a pillow at the headboard of 
the heavy oak bedstead, and said: 

“Get up and put it on, Camilla. It’s time you 
was dressin’.” 

Camilla raised herself to a sitting posture, 
bringing her chin on a level with the broad 
wooden sill, and peered through the window. 
Down the road which extended along the side of 
the wheat-field, half way between the road-gate 
and the house, came a buggy. She watched a 
momeut longer. Yes; it was he. 

“It’s not five o’clock yet, is it?” she asked, 
turning to her mother, and rising. “He wasn’t 
to come till five.” 

“He’s got somethin’ extra to say is why he has 
come earlier,” thought Mrs. Morgan. “Camilla, 
if he does — ask you, don’t say ‘no,’ do you hear?” 
she said. 

And Mrs. Morgan brushed up her hair on the 
back of her head, pulled up her collar and fastened 
it a little closer about her neck, saying: 

“I have got to meet him, I reckon. C. D. is 


54 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


out. Maria and Jim are both away, and you are 
not ready.” 

' “You’d better put on the organdy yourself,” 
spoke Camilla aloud when she thought her mother 
was on the stairs, well out of hearing. 

Instead, Mrs. Morgan had stopped in the upper 
hall to adjust a hairpin, and therefore surprised 
Camilla by pushing back the half -open door and 
making this vigorous response: 

“Camilla Morgan! I know if my mother had 
taken one half the interest in my affairs when I 
was a girl that I do in yours, I would have showed 
her more respect. But she just as leave I hadn’t 
’ve married C. D. as that I had.” She could have 
added that her mother’s opposing the marriage 
had strengthened her desire to become Mrs. Cliff 
Morgan. But she chose to ignore that feature 
of the circumstance and hurled another warning 
at Camilla : “Don’t you say ‘no.’ ” She tossed 
back her head and brought down her chin, as in 
final dismission of the question. Then she 
slammed the door. 

Camilla entertained no thought now of putting 
on any dress except the organdy. She com- 
menced the undertaking demurely, but before she 
had completed her toilet her spirits rose, and she 
laughed at giving her mother pleasure by wearing 
her gown. Her amusement even lifted her to 
the height of her own independence. Hence she 
raised the lid of her trunk, took out a bow of red 
chiffon, and pinned it over the fastening of the 
bertha. Thus she made the effect as nearly as 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


55 


possible the same she had desired in the original 
fashioning of the bertha. 

‘‘Now!” she said, viewing her efforts with sat- 
isfaction. “I wonder if mother is in the parlor 
yet.” And she opened the door cautiously, tripped 
to the head of the stairs, and listened. Upon 
hearing nothing except the lamentations of the 
base-rocker, she went down the steps and entered 
the parlor. 

After the exchange of greetings, Bruce pro- 
posed a drive. Camilla cordially assented, and 
returned to her room for her hat while Bruce 
went to hitch Venus to the buggy. 

Mrs. Morgan, from her bed-room window, ob- 
served Camilla as she walked toward the stile, and 
she thought that her daughter showed more re- 
gard for her health than was her wont; for Ca- 
milla carried a wrap. This lay across her bosom, 
one end resting on her right shoulder, and the 
other under her left arm. 

After leaving the stile, Camilla took off this 
light silk scarf, hung it on the back of the buggy- 
seat, and leaned against it. 

When Bruce gave Camilla the reins, and 
climbed out to open the gate at the corner of the 
wheat-field, he said: 

“Will you drive through, please?” 

“I shall be delighted to,” she replied. 

Venus was not satisfied to stop just beyond the 
gate, but went down the hill a short distance, step- 
ping high, and tossing her head as Camilla pulled 
on the reins. 

“I hope you would not be delighted to drive the 


56 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


entire length of the lane without me/’ Bruce said, 
smiling, as he stepped into the moving vehicle. 

‘‘I think I should not be afraid of Venus. I 
have heard you say that she was not vicious, that 
she only wanted to go.” 

‘‘Thank you. You are very kind to accept my 
word for Venus’s qualifications.” And he thought 
of making a request for still another acceptance, 
but he was afraid that an unadorned way would 
not appeal to Camilla. So he decided to wait and 
bring in his more effective address. 

They turned to the left at the intersection of 
the lane and the pike, and drove about three- 
quarters of a mile to Meadowville. Joel waved as 
the couple passed his home. 

“Aunt Milly, mamma said tell gran’pa to come 
up here in the mornin’ the first thing,” cried the 
child from the yard. Then he leaped the fence, 
ran into the pike, and said, “Aunt Milly, papa is 
feelin’ bad, an’ mamma is just a-cryin’ an’ a-fussin’ ; 
but she didn’t say for me to tell you that.” 

Out of regard for Camilla, Bruce let Venus go 
on. 

“All right. I’ll tell him,” Camilla called out. 

The pike radiated in four directions from the 
center of the town. After passing the corner and 
turning to the right, Bruce said : 

“I like this way best, and I was impolite enough 
not to ask your choice, But I remember that you, 
too, have always preferred this road.” 

Camilla, choosing to ignore any underlying sig- 
nificance, said: 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


57 


“You are unjust in not permitting me a wom- 
an’s privilege of changing my mind.” 

“Unjust? Unjust to you, Camilla?” And he 
poured out his heart without a thought of the 
speech which he had so carefully prepared and 
placed on memory’s shelf to be taken down and 
served on the momentous occasion. Not a 
thought of his fine address occurred to him until 
he and Camilla were returning home. Then he told 
her of the speech and she made him repeat it to her. 
Each enjoyed a laugh. 

Upon turning into the lane, Camilla leaned for- 
ward and looked to see if her scarf was still in 
place. Bruce mistook her movements for her rec- 
ognized need of the wrap, and so he unfolded it, 
and endeavored to place it around her, saying: 

“It’s my privilege.” 

“Not yet,” said she, shrinking from the touch 
of his arm on her shoulder, and completing the 
arrangement of the scarf herself. 

However, this wrap had already served Ca- 
milla’s original purpose for it. It had concealed 
the red chiffon bow from her mother’s eyes. Thus 
she had been assisted in a stroke of self-assertion 
which she felt powerless to make unless she be- 
lieved that it would remain unknown to her pa- 
rent. 

But the avenue which the bow had opened for 
her was not sufficiently broad for her to turn 
around and combat her mother’s tyranny. Now, 
as the knowledge of her situation swept over her 
with accumulated force, she drew the little scarf 
more tightly about her, and pulled off the bow. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


S8 

She dropped the bow on the floor of the buggy, 
and ground it under her foot as she thought, ‘‘My 
own choice of life is trampled on forever, and 
mother’s choice for me triumphs.” Then she 
threw back the scarf and looked at the bertha by 
the light of the new moon. 

Bruce yielded himself fully to the happiness that 
his first love brought him. He was only vaguely 
aware of Camilla’s silence. Had he attempted to 
account for her mood he would have thought that 
she, too, recognized the feebleness of words for 
expressing the new joy. 

When they arrived at the stile, she invited him 
to go in, thinking, “That’s what mother would do, 
I reckon.” 

Camilla looked up at Bruce when he joined her 
in the walk, and smiled at a man’s appearing 
pleased at being accepted by a girl who did not 
want him. 

But Bruce’s own heart was warm, and there 
was a glow in his conversation during his stay. 
When the young man asked permission to call on 
Wednesday evening, Camilla half wondered at 
herself for having to resort to the thought, “Well, 
I reckon mother would let him.” 

After his departure, she turned the key in the 
front door, and blew out the light in the parlor. 
Then she went up-stairs to her own room, sat 
down in the window, and watched the stars as 
they twinkled away just as ever, proving, as she 
thought, their indifference to her in her distress. 

“If I could only love him,” she thought, “inas- 
much as I have to marry him. If mother hadn’t 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


59 


forced this on me perhaps I could have learned to 
love him ; but then, how could I ? I don’t know 
what sort of a man I want to love. The truth is, 
I don’t want to love any now. But if some one of 
’em is necessary to my future happiness, as mother 
seems to believe (I reckon she believes that), 
I should like to get out in the world, and compare 
him with other men. Perhaps then I could find 
out whether he is the man I would be happiest 
with. But mother thinks there’s no use in that. 
I haven’t the chance of a free negro!” She rose 
and slammed the blinds. "‘Mother will be happy, 
I reckon,” she thought ; “at least she ought to be.” 
Then she yielded to a laugh, but her laugh had a 
new note in it — one of bitterness. 


CHAPTER V 


Monday morning Camilla slumbered on till her 
mother called from the foot of the stairs: 

“Breakfast is ready/’ 

Camilla lingered a while, and then remembering 
her sister’s request, got up hurriedly. She slipped 
into a red calico wrapper, and brushed back her 
hair without stopping to unbraid it. 

When she entered the dining-room, only her 
mother sat at the table. 

“Father gone?” she asked, as she closed the 
hall door behind her. 

Without waiting for an answer, she crossed the 
room, and went through the door, to the porch. 
She looked toward the barn, and saw Mr. Cliff 
Morgan issuing from it on horseback. 

“Father,” she called, running to speak to him, 
“are you going to Meadowville ?” 

“Yes. Why?” 

“Nina said for you to come up there this morn- 
ing; she wants to see you.” 

“What about?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“All right,” he answered, as he rode away, 
thinking, “I wonder what Alvin imagines he’s 
fitted for now.” 

For Nina had sent for her father on previous 
occasions — at times when Alvin had thought if he 
only had the means, he could enter upon a pursuit 
for which he was better adapted by nature than 
for the one in which he was then engaged. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


6i 


Once the transition was from a farm to a law 
office. Through the law he expected to ascend 
the ladder of fame. Within a few months, how- 
ever, he thought that the pinnacle was to be 
reached only through merchandizing. 

Mr. Morgan materially assisted in these trans- 
itions with faith each time in Alvin’s persuasion. 
Knowing now that Alvin did not realize his expec- 
tations from any of his ventures, Mr. Morgan re- 
solved as he rode along, that if Alvin wanted more 
money, he would not accommodate him. 

When Camilla sat down to eat her breakfast, 
her mother lingered apparently to sip a second 
cup of coffee. 

“What did you want with your father?” Mrs. 
Morgan asked. 

“Just to tell him what Nina said — for him to 
come up there.” 

“What does she want? I thought maybe — 
Bruce — wanted to see him.” 

“Well, if he does, I reckon he can find him with- 
out my assistance.” 

“He does then, I reckon. Does he?” 

“I reckon so.” Camilla drank half a cup of 
coffee. Then she helped her plate to hash, but 
rose from the table without eating anything. 

“Child, why don’t you eat your breakfast?” 
asked Mrs. Morgan. “But when I was in love I 
lost my appetite, too.” 

Mrs. Morgan got up from the table, and com- 
menced piling up the dishes. “Don’t go till you 
tell me ’bout Nina,” she called to Camilla. “You 
say you don’t know what she wants?” 


62 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


^‘1 don’t know. Joel said his papa was feeling 
bad, and his mamma was crying and fussing.” 
And Camilla laughed. 

“Well, she’s had enough to make her cry and 
fuss!” declared Mrs. Morgan, sitting down on a 
chair near Camilla. “Alvin has just about run as 
long as he can, I expect. Likely he’s been tellin’ 
Nina if he could get some more money he would 
do great things. I’ve lost patience with him. I 
did think at one time that he was goin’ to do 
somethin’, but I don’t believe now there’s any- 
thing in him, or he would ’a’ done some good be- 
fore this time. He has changed about too much. 
Poor Nina! the child would like to hold up her 
head.” 

About the same time, Nina was lamenting Al- 
vin’s hard luck to her father. “If you can let Al- 
vin have a few hundred dollars, you won’t have to 
help him any more,” she said. “If he can get 
straight with his creditors once more, he thinks 
he can get along.” 

Mr. Morgan heard his daughter through, and 
then said: 

“Nina, if I thought it best for you and the 
children, I would advance Alvin the money you 
ask for, but I don’t.” 

“What shall we do then, father?” 

“I think it would be better for Alvin to learn 
to rely upon his own resources. No; I can’t do 
it this time.” And he put on his hat, which little 
Annie had been trying on her doll, and left the 
room. He was too deep in thought to hear the 
child as she prattled: 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


63 


‘‘Gran’pa, dolly says good-by.” 

Nina dried her tears, and went about her morn- 
ing’s sweeping and dusting, thinking: “Father has 
been good to us. I don’t blame him.” 

But her bitterness at the turn of affairs caused 
her to wish to blame some one. The manner in 
which her father disposed of the subject disin- 
clined her to elect him as the object for her re- 
proaches. So she turned upon her husband, think- 
ing: 

“Alvin ought to do better. I don’t see why he 
can’t make money; other men can. He’s always 
thinking he will make it, but he never does it. 
I’m tired of hearing that we are not able to do 
this, and we can’t afford to have that. It’s we 
must economize here, and we must economize 
there all the time. I’m tired of it all, too. I don’t 
see how he expects me to do as other people do, 
and to have things like other people have unless 
I spend money. 

“Mrs. Casey over here does every bit of her 
shopping in Cincinnati — nearly every bit. Her 
children wear perfectly beautiful clothes. So 
many of them made by hand, too. She doesn’t do 
it herself, either. They come over here to play 
with my children, and how am I goin’ to let my 
children visit hers unless they dress as well as 
hers do?” 

Nina failed to consider that Mrs. Casey owned 
a large farm near the village, and had several 
thousand dollars in the bank besides, but vigor- 
ously pursued her line of thought: 

“Certainly I wish my children to cultivate 


64 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


people who are somebodies in the world, and the 
right sort of a father would too, I think. I like 
such people myself! And IVe always been used 
to having just as good things as anybody. I don’t 
intend that my children shan’t have them, either. 
No, I don’t!” 

She jerked the lap-board out of the closet, and 
seated herself by the end window in the sitting- 
room. Then she unfolded a piece of linen lawn. 
As she cut a dress for little Annie, she thought, 
*'This is just as pretty as Mira Casey’s, except I 
have no embroidery for it ; but I will have it.” 

She pushed the lap-board with the cloth to the 
floor, got up, and wrote an order to Cincinnati 
for the embroidery that she desired. She left the 
envelope unsealed, and then sent the letter to Alvin 
by Joel, and told her husband in a note to put in the 
money for the material. 

When Joel returned, Nina asked him what his 
father said. The child answered : 

‘Well, he just sorter grunted, but he looked 
like he wanted to say somethin’. I kept waitin’ 
fer him to say it, but he never done it. He just 
told me to run ’long home.” 

Nina knew what construction to place upon the 
unspoken words. She thought, “He ought to be 
thankful to get off with just buying the material, 
for I do my sewing myself — the most of it.” 

As she sewed, she planned other dresses for 
little Annie, fashioned after some of Mira Casey’s. 
She thought, too, of new furnishings for the 
house which she must have because Mrs. Casey 
had recently fitted up a room in the latest style. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


65 


''Alvin Crane needn't think that I intend to 
be looked down on by anybody!" she declared 
aloud. 

"But he knows she will be looked down upon 
in earnest if she don’t quit her extravagance," 
spoke that unobserved gentleman, stopping at 
the open window. 

"Extravagance ! That’s all a man knows about 
such things. Did you send my letter?" 

He drew the order from his pocket, and in 
harsher tones than he had ever used to his wife 
before, said: 

"Nina, what makes you such a fool ?" The ex- 
pression afforded him relief, but he repented of it 
instantly. 

"For shame, Alvin Crane!" Nina burst forth. 
"No decent man would — " And her words were 
drowned in sobs of anger. 

Thereupon, instead of the apology which he had 
wished to make, he fed the flames of her passion 
by tossing into her lap a roll of embroidery which 
he had brought from his own shelves, saying : 

"Here’s some that’s good enough, and it’s much 
less expensive." 

She looked at the trimming, and then threw it 
back at him, saying: 

"Take your common, cheap stuff. I don’t want 
it. I have more pride for my child than to let her 
wear that, I know — if you haven’t." 

"But where is the pay coming for the finer ma- 
terial? What did your father say?" 

5 


66 AMONG THU MBADOWS 

“I reckon I better not tell you just what he did 
say,” she retorted. 

“Will he let us have the money?” 

“No; you will have to look somewhere else. 
You will have to get it for yourself.” 

“I rather hated for you to go to your father 
again, anyhow, but you thought that was the only 
way.” 

“What else was there to do?” 

“Well, as a last resort,” he said, climbing in at 
the open window, and settling himself in it, “IVe 
thought that we can sell the house. Mr. Andrews 
is anxious to buy it, and offers a good price for it. 
We can sell it, and get out of debt, and hereafter 
we will live strictly within our income.” 

“How shall we live at all if we sell the house, 
I should like to know?” 

“We can rent two or three rooms somewhere. 
Then we’ll buy fewer dainties for the table and 
less expensive clothing, and climb up gradually to 
a solid footing. I am in earnest, Nina. I think 
that is the best thing for us to do.” 

“Live in two or three rooms! What would 
Mrs. Casey think of us? No; I shan’t! I shan’t 
move a step from where we are — not a step.” 

“But, Nina, that way of living would be better 
than being closed out of business by creditors. 
Almost anything would be better than that, seems 
to me — anything honorable.” Alvin endeavored 
to reason coolly. “What shall we do, then?” he 
asked. 

“I don’t know what you are going to do. Man- 
age your own way about that, but I am going to 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 67 

do just as I have been doing; you can depend on 
that. That’s bad enough, goodness knows.” 

Alvin rose from the window, and went to the 
back door of the room. Seeing their father, the 
children ran to greet him. 

Nina left her work, went to the dining-room, 
and called the servant to place dinner on the table. 

After going through the form of the hour, Al- 
vin left his home, — the one place in the world 
where a man has a right to expect full sympathy, 
— more wretched than when he entered. 

He walked down the street with his hands in 
his trousers pockets and with his head bent. He 
did not notice the wagon which passed him, nor 
see the cloud of dust that the horses raised. 

He pursued his way mechanically. When he 
arrived at the street-crossing, he turned from the 
force of habit, not from positive recognition of 
the direction. 

A crowd of loungers sat upon the store-porch. 
On this afternoon several farmers stopped to 
wait until “Crane” returned from dinner. 

The half-grown boy who assisted in the store 
could have waited on these men, but they pre- 
ferred trading with the proprietor himself. So when 
Alvin entered, one of the farmers followed, and pur- 
chased two pairs of socks and a paper of pins. An- 
other went in, and asked for four spools of thread 
and samples of pink and white percale. 

Alvin followed his customers to the door, and 
stood a minute, waiting to see if there were others 
who wished to go in. 

At length he dropped into one of the chairs on 


68 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


the porch. His thoughts, however, were busy 
with serious matters. Yet a limp smile crossed 
his face once or twice when the other men laughed 
as he sat staring at the floor and toying with his 
knife. 

People had finished harvesting; there was talk 
of wheat-thrashing. 

Alvin’s first customer, who had stopped again 
on the porch before going home, said : 

“Bruce Turner has cut ’bout the best wheat in 
the country. Bruce is a good farmer.” 

“He is a lucky fellow, anyway,” said one of the 
loungers. 

“I don’t think it’s all luck,” said the farmer. 
“It’s his fine judgment and level-headed manage- 
ment that count. A more likely young fellow 
this country has not got than Bruce Turner. 
Where is there another young man who, if he had 
been left as Bruce was, with plenty of money, 
would not have run through with it instead of in- 
creasing the amount as Bruce has done? Just 
show him to me.” 

“But if I’d had his money to start on I could 
have made money, too,” said the lounger. 

“You? Well, I must be goin’.” And the farmer’s 
smile was significant. 

“Good-evening, Bruce,” said he, as he strode of¥ 
the porch and Bruce stepped upon it; “tell these 
fellers how your luck comes. I’ll bet you won’t say 
it comes from wearin’ out your clothes on store 
stiles. No, sir!” And the farmer went his way 
while Bruce drew near the laughing crowd. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 69 

“What are you alt talking about?” asked the 
young man, seating himself in a chair. 

A new idea came into Alvin Crane’s mind like a 
ray of sunshine in a dark closet where woolen ma- 
terial supplies moth to devour its own fiber. Call- 
ing Bruce into the store, Alvin led him to the desk 
which stood at the rear end near the one window 
in that part of the room. 

“I’d like to borrow a thousand dollars from 
you,” Alvin said, at length; “can’t you lend it to 
me?” 

Bruce changed his position, for he was consider- 
ing whether it would be wise to lend the money to 
Camilla’s brother-in-law, who bore the reputation 
of a rolling stone. “To steer clear of an entangle- 
ment of this kind with him may prove the pleasant- 
est for both of us in the long run,” he decided. 

Finally he said, varnishing the truth with cour- 
tesy: 

“I would like to accommodate you. Crane, but 
I have use for what surplus I have.” 

“Can’t you lend me five hundred, then?” And 
Alvin knocked off a deposit of pike-dust from his 
coat-sleeve. Then he straightened up, and leaned 
against the desk, crossing one hand over the other 
in front of him. “Bruce, my bills are due,” he 
pleaded. “I know my creditors won’t wait on me 
much longer. Besides, I have a few other debts. 
If you will lend me only five hundred.” 

“I can’t do it. Crane,” said Bruce, tightening 
his hold on his former decision. 

“Bruce, if you could only understand how seri- 
ous my trouble is, you would let me have it. I 


70 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


mean to get out of debt after this and stay out; 
it's enough to gnaw the life out of a man." And 
he had determined to put forth all possible effort 
to do as he asserted that he would do. 

Bruce gazed at Alvin, half doubting, half be- 
lieving the sincerity of the statement. 

'‘Won’t you?" pleaded Alvin. 

"I can’t. Crane." But as Bruce walked away, 
he wished that he could feel quite sure of Alvin. 

He did not stop with the crowd on the porch. 
He went to the shop to see if his wagon was ready. 
Finding the repairs completed, he got in and 
drove toward home. 

The broad brim of his Palmetto hat shook and 
flapped and fluttered, beating a tattoo on his 
shoulders to the time of the rumbling wagon. 
His thoughts, too, jostled from one side to the 
other of the subject which he held in contempla- 
tion. He first condemned himself for refusing 
Mr. Crane the money, and then approved of the 
action. This wavering attitude was unusual for 
him ; for ordinarily when he once decided a ques- 
tion, he stood firmly by his decision. 

His faltering conduct to-day manifested itself 
still further. When he came to Meadowville 
Creek he drove along the road running parallel 
with it without responding to the nod of Helen 
Morgan. Helen passed with a bucket on her arm, 
going to fetch water from a spring near-by. But 
as Bruce crossed the stream above, he bethought 
himself of his rudeness, and for compensation, 
pulled off his great sun protector and bowed his 
head respectfully at Helen’s vanishing figure. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


71 


Helen did not know whether the young man 
spoke. For the irregular outlines of his hat brim 
were deceiving, and her thoughts were busy with 
matters which she considered of greater import- 
ance to her. 

When Bruce drove out of town, Alvin Crane’s 
last ray of hope for securing the money honestly 
sank beyond the bleak mountain of despair. He 
argued with himself that he would not forge a 
note to get the means, but the combination of 
circumstances forced him to do so. Therefore before 
the evening train arrived at the neighboring station, 
he returned to his home, packed a small satchel, 
bade his family good-by, and set out for Cincin- 
nati. 

On the following morning he presented to a 
bank a note for five hundred dollars, bearing 
Bruce Turner’s name. The signature seemed 
genuine to the hurried teller, and so he handed 
Alvin the money. 

Mr. Crane paid off the indebtedness on his 
stock, and early in the afternoon left for home. 


CHAPTER VI 


On Helen’s right was a rock wall which en- 
closed a meadow; on her left, the creek. 

Three small sycamore trees grew side by side 
out of the steep bank and touched the face of the 
water with the leaves of their lower branches. As 
she passed these, she reached out and plucked a 
slender switch without recognizing any reason for 
the action, except that the twig offered her some- 
thing tangible to grasp. For her mind was reach- 
ing out: it was seeking an opportunity to learn 
to draw and paint. 

Of late years she had tried to set aside her 
yearning to become an artist, for she saw no way 
to get the necessary training. But in spite of her 
reasoning, her desire strengthened, making her 
inner life one of tumult. 

Now, as she walked along, she wished with all 
her might to be rid of this desire, so that she could 
tread peacefully the path of humble and obscure 
duty. 

A lizard crept out from its hiding-place among 
the rocks of the wall, and displayed itself in full 
repulsiveness. Helen’s mind reverted to her 
homely round of every-day tasks unillumined by 
hope of more congenial occupation. 

A grasshopper crossed the path, and pursued 
its course. 

Helen stopped a minute to watch the insect. 
“Brave little fellow!” she thought, when she saw 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


73 


him go through the tall grass. ''But courage 
won’t win the victory for me.” 

When she came to the spring, she descended the 
three steps which led to the water. Then she 
rested her hands on the moss-covered rock that 
formed the top to the spring, laid her head on her 
hands, and tried to think of a way out of her 
trouble. 

After a short time, she filled her bucket, and 
then put down her dipper saying: "I can’t live 
on this way. I just can’t!” 

She looked around her appealingly. Then she 
moved to the peppermint which grew on the hill- 
side, and pressed one of the leaves. 

An old walnut tree stood near. The log-house, 
weather-stained and crumbling, was on the brov/ 
of the hill where it had been during the various 
stages of Helen’s transition from infancy to wo- 
manhood. 

She sank on the grass, and buried her face in 
her hands because no help came. "Nothing, no- 
body can help me,” she thought. 

The aesthetic side of her nature was ever on 
the alert, but she did not know that God’s power 
could bring beauty of soul out of suffering. 

After a short time, she rose slowly, and moved 
toward the spring. She picked up the dipper and 
the bucket and walked in the direction of her 
home, for she realized the necessity of ending her 
self-indulgence and entering upon her evening 
duties. 

Upon arriving at the house she carried a dipper 
of water to her mother. 


74 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


“What kept you so long?” asked the parent, 
somewhat anxiously. 

“I hope you haven’t wanted the water very 
much, mother,” Helen answered. 

‘‘Not that, but you.” 

“What can I do for you?” 

“I don’t want anything done for me, but what is 
the matter?” 

“Noth-ing.” Helen strung out the word. 
There was no outward occurrence to detain her, 
and she wished to avoid giving her mother un- 
necessary concern. Therefore, she expressed only 
half of the truth in her reply, but the mother’s ear 
heard the other half in her tone. 

“After you put up the dipper, come back,” Mrs. 
Morgan requested. “I’m afraid you are not happy, 
my child,” the mother said, when Helen returned. 
“I’m not blamin’ you, dear. I don’t wonder at it. 
I wish I could do the work. How I wish I could ! 
Only God knows how I suffer on that account ! I 
know it’s hard for one so young to do drudgery 
day in and day out. I sympathize with you, child. 
I wish I could do it in your stead.” 

“Mother, please don’t you worry. I would 
rather do it than have you do it.” She believed 
that the whole truth would pain her mother even 
more than Mrs. Morgan’s present view of the 
situation. 

“It’s bad, child.” 

“Now don’t you mind,” Helen said bravely, as 
she rose from her kneeling posture at the side of 
the bed. “Isn’t there something that I can do for 
you before I go?” 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


75 


“Bring me my work-basket.” Mrs. Morgan 
sighed after the request. 

The work-basket was on a small table along 
with a Bible, two newspapers, and a lamp. 

Helen placed the basket by her mother’s side 
without saying that it was too late to work by day- 
light, or asking if she should light the lamp; she 
was accustomed to complying with this request. 

Whenever Mrs. Morgan was unusually dis- 
turbed on account of her inability to work, she 
would ask for her little basket. And she came 
at length to ask for her work-basket when she was 
unusually troubled about anything. She could not 
sew, however, for using her arms caused her pain. 

Often she would take out a garment and ex- 
amine it. Upon refolding the garment she would 
stick a threaded needle into it, and say, “Now it’ll 
be ready when I want it.” 

Helen would frequently change the articles, and 
Mrs. Morgan would find in the basket, at one 
time, stockings to be darned ; at another, a larger 
garment to be mended. 

This time there was a wheat sack. Mrs. 
Morgan was unfolding the article when Helen left 
the room. 

An hour later, when Captain Morgan carried a 
cup of tea and a slice of toast to the room, he 
found his wife asleep with her hands folded across 
the coarse sack which lay on her bosom. 

He looked at her for a minute, and then closed 
his eyes, and offered the silent prayer : 

“God bless her, and make her able to patch the 
old wheat sack if she wants to.” 


76 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


The invalid opened her eyes and said : 

‘'My supper, is it? Well, I will put up my work 
for to-night.” She folded the article over and 
over and laid it in the basket. 

Captain Morgan placed the tray on the bed, and 
then lighted the lamp. 

“My tea is cold,” Mrs. Morgan complained. 
“What made you bring me cold tea?” 

“ril take it back and get you some warm.” 

When the captain returned to the kitchen, Helen 
was “setting the rising” for bread. 

“Daughter,” he said, “you ought to let that go 
to-night. I’m afraid you’re not well.” 

“Oh! why won’t they leave me alone in my 
misery?” she cried within herself, after her father 
left the room. “I try so hard to keep from annoy- 
ing them with my own distresses.” And two large 
tears escaped from eyes that endeavored to retain 
them. 

Upon finishing her domestic duties, Helen went 
to assist her mother in preparations for the night. 
But her services were declined by her father, who 
said: 

“I want to help mother by myself to-night, and 
show her how well I can do it when I try. You 
take yourself off to your bed.” 

Helen then went to her own room, back of the 
little parlor. She threw herself on the floor by 
the window, and laid her head on the sill. Then 
she did what many a woman, with more wisdom 
concerning life’s ways, has done — she cried. 

It was July, and the song of the katydids in the 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


77 


oak tree near the window strengthened the girl’s 
sense of loneliness. 

After she had wiped away her tears, she chas- 
tised herself with the thought : ‘‘Haven’t I enough 
to fill my life to the brim? Just look at mother’s 
condition! I know I ought not to think of myself 
under such circumstances. I hate myself for it. 
What would mother think if she knew? What 
would father think? They wouldn’t call me their 
good girl any more.” 

The murmuring of the creek at the foot of the 
hill drew her through the window for a stroll in 
the moon-lit yard. 

When she stood by the stile, she watched the 
stream as it rippled along its course. She half 
forgot her trouble, so much absorbed was she in 
the sheets of light which the moon cast on the 
water, giving to each tiny wave a character of its 
own. But at length the distant bark of a dog 
made Helen feel lonely again, and she hastened 
back to her room. 

She lighted the lamp and closed the blinds, 
questioning herself : “Didn’t God give me the de- 
sire? I wonder if he didn’t? I think He must 
have given it to me. If He did, then haven’t I a 
right to it?” 


CHAPTER VII 


When Alvin Crane returned from Cincinnati 
he expected to raise sufficient money to make a 
quiet settlement with Bruce Turner before he 
should learn of the forged note through other 
means. 

He reentered upon his duties, spending at first 
the greater part of his spare time in the back room 
of his shop. There he engaged in a general clean- 
ing and straightening. When he had finished, he 
made changes in the larger front room. He ar- 
ranged the goods more conveniently on the 
shelves and in the show-cases, and he polished the 
windows. He replaced shop-worn articles with 
fresh ones. What effect this work could have on 
the collection of a few accounts and the increase 
of trade was only indefinitely defined in his mind. 
But the improvement caused Uncle Johnny Gray 
to comment when he came in to buy a new stem 
for his cob-pipe: 

‘Wou must be tryin’ to fetch Cincinnati up here, 
ain’t you? Well, we need it; but my time fer 
doin’ sech things is over.” Uncle Johnny viewed 
Alvin’s efforts with satisfaction, and, at the same 
time, regretted his own inability to keep step with 
the world’s progress. ''We ole ones air ’bleeged 
to swing ’long in the ole fashion,” he said; "but 
I like to see it. You may gimme two stems : that 
basket you’ve got ’em in looks so pooty.” 

Alvin was pleased by the remarks, and the extra 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


79 


purchase, small though it was, flattered him that 
the changes would bring him more trade. 

But in the mean time, Bruce Turner had learned 
of the forgery through his banker, and the act had 
aroused all his vindictiveness. He would not sub- 
mit to a thing which had been forced on him in 
that manner — not he. He had determined to 
make Crane suffer the full penalty of the law. 

When Bruce arrived at home, after learning of 
the forgery. Uncle Dan was at the barn, and called 
out to him, but he did not answer. Uncle Dan 
then went to assist in removing the horse from 
the shafts, and saw clearly by the flash of Bruce's 
eye, and by the deepened color in his sunburnt 
cheeks, that something was wrong. 

Bruce jerked the harness from the animal's 
back, and switched it into its place in the buggy- 
house. Then he went to the house, leaving Uncle 
Dan to dispose of Venus. 

Under ordinary circumstances. Uncle Dan 
would have known what Bruce wanted done with 
the horse. But now he did not know, and did not 
dare ask. 

'‘Come on, Venus, I'll feed you," he said, at 
length. 'T reckon that won't go fur amiss — with 
you anyhow." He chuckled as he led her to the 
barn. 

After feeding the horse. Uncle Dan walked to 
the edge of the barn-shed, and stood, wondering 
what he should do with the buggy. He looked 
toward the house, but he received no sign. He 
gazed into the sky. Yes ; there a gathering cloud 
warned him to run the buggy under shelter. 


8o 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Uncle Dan did not see Bruce again until the 
supper hour called them together. 

They ate for a short time without exchange of 
words. Finally, Bruce said : 

“You know Crane went to Cincinnati?’' He 
then told of the offense, placing his own construc- 
tion upon it. 

Uncle Dan left his buttered griddle cake to 
grow cold and stiff, and discussed the subject with 
Bruce. At length he said : 

“I don’t believe he ever meant to misuse you, 
more then the act ’ud be a ill treatment of any 
man. I don’t believe he did! You know he 
never made nothin’ of any consequence, an’ he’s 
got a wife what likes to put on as many airs as 
any the balance. I think he was jes’ sorter driv 
to it, myse’f. A wife of that sort is a pow’ful ex- 
pensive article. Pow’ful expensive!” 

“You think that’s sufficient excuse for him, do 
you?” Bruce snapped. 

“Now, Bruce, boy, you know I don’t think no 
sech a thing. He ort not to ’a’ done it, o’ course, 
but the feller’s human. He’s a kind-hearted, ac- 
commodatin’ soul. I b’lieve it’s jes’ as I sez. I 
b’lieve it’s the woman mostly. I ain’t one neither 
what thinks ever’ time a man fails it’s the woman’s 
fault.” 

“Woman or no woman, he will pay for it.” 

“Bruce, boy, that will never do — under the cir- 
cumstances. Think of — think of — Miss Milly.” 

“Yes; that’s what makes me so mad,” said 
Bruce. “He thinks I won’t expose him on that 
account. He thinks he has me right there.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


8i 


“Don’t do what you threaten; think of what 
it might lead to. Some day you mought find 
yerse’f a ole bachelor like me, an’ mebbe there 
wouldn’t be no good feller round to take keer o’ 
you like you do me. Besides, you kin afford to 
marry. Fer them what kin afford it, it’s all right, 
I think. There’s too many fellers though what 
marry before they kin take keer of a wife. It’s 
astin’ too much of a woman to want her to live 
on jes’ air an’ love an’ water; let alone raise 
chillun that away. An’ fer them what can’t afford 
it, luck depends a sight on the kind o’ woman a 
feller gits, an’ it’s pow’ful risky. As fer Crane’s 
wife, I knowed her when she was a girl, an’ she 
was as likely as any the girls. But you know her 
paw was able to buy her all the bonnets an’ fixin’s 
that most women-folks set sech store by, an’ she 
was content, an’ didn’t ’pear to keer over much 
’bout ’em then. Now she’s not able to have ’em, 
an’ she knows it. So she thinks she’s lettin’ of 
herse’f down not to have ’em jes’ the same as ever, 
an’ she wants ’em pow’ful bad. An’ she don’t act 
the pootiest in the world when she don’t git ’em, 
is my notion.” 

“You think, then, it would be safer for a man to 
marry a girl who never had any money to spend, 
do you?” 

“Naw, I don’t — not as a rule.” And Uncle Dan 
fell to carving his griddle cake. “Most women 
seem to think finery o’ one sort or a-nother is their 
lawful inheritance from the world at some time. 
Ef they can’t git the things before they marry, 
6 


83 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


they air pow’ful apt to think they orter come af- 
terwards.” 

‘‘Well, if a man should marry a widow, he would 
know what to depend on then, you think 

'^Not ever’ time. Sallie Jane Jones she married 
a triflin’ rascal the first time. He got drunk, an’ 
ever’ time he went home in that condition, he ’ud 
beat her. She stood it as meek as a lamb. People 
said she never had the spunk what she orter ’a’ 
had. But by an’ by he died in one of his drunken 
brawls, an’ in due time Sallie Jane married Jim 
Hardy. Where she got her courage from to try 
it ag’in is mor’n I kin tell you, but there ain’t no 
accountin’ fer women, some women. Folks felt 
relieved fer her when she was through with the 
first one. But Jim was a decent, hard-workin’ 
chap. I ain’t got nothin’ to say agin him unless 
’tis he never showed ’nough spunk. The week 
after they got married Sallie Jane went an’ bought 
a new buggy whip an’ stood it in the corner o’ the 
room. That night she waited fer him to git to 
sleep, then she took an’ sewed him up in the sheet 
an’ let him have tFe buggy whip fer all it was 
worth. When he ast her what was the matter, she 
tole him that the nex’ time she - said the cows 
orter be kept in the barn instid o’ bein’ turned out 
in the pastur’, it had to be did. Well, sir, she 
bossed Jim the way you never heerd o’ a woman 
bossin’ a man before. Jim was feered to go to 
sleep o’ nights ef he hadn’t done her way ’bout 
things. Then to cap it all, while she laid on her 
bed a-dyin’, an’ Jim a-cryin’, she ast to be buried 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 83 

at the feet of her first husband. Ever since I 
heerd ’bout that, I’ve been shy o’ widders.” 

Uncle Dan was endeavoring to put Bruce in a 
more desirable frame of mind, and so he con- 
tinued : 

‘*You never heerd how dost I come to gittin’ 
married, did you? I know you never heerd jes’ 
why I never got married, fer yer Uncle Dan ain’t 
never tole that before. 

“Well, Mrs. Lewis, she is now, was Polly Atchi- 
son then,” he began. “Polly’s father was a very 
good small farmer in them days, but he was dost 
with his money. He thought it was a pow’ful 
waste fer a girl to have more’n three dresses at a 
time ; one dress fer Sunday, an’ a change fer ever’ 
day. An’ a hat orter las’ two year anyway. I 
thought ’bout all that, fer I was a reflectin’ chap. 
It ’peared sensible to me, specially when Polly was 
as pooty as a pink, an’ outshined t’other girls in 
spite of her ole clo’es. So when she promised to 
be my wife, I thought it was a great snap fer 
Natur’ to help out a feller so much. I b’lieved 
I could afford to buy a bonnet ever’ two year when 
crops was good. Polly was sensible, I thought, 
an’ wouldn’t want it, o’ course, when the crop was 
short. I meant to take pains to tell her how well 
she looked in her ole one the times the crops 
failed, ef they should fail. I hoped though they 
wouldn’t.” 

“For you expected to give her more than just 
air and love and water, didn’t you?” said Bruce. 

“Now, boy! Anyhow, I had things all fixed to 
my satisfaction when a way-off cousin from Phila- 


84 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


delphy come to pay ’em a visit. She was some 
older then Polly was. A likely gal, I reckon they 
thought up in Philadelphy, from the way she 
th’owed back her shoulders when she walked, an’ 
them skirts she wore what stood out round her 
an’ made her look as big as a hogshead. 

‘When she first come, she talked ’bout the de- 
lightful quietude of the country, but in a few 
weeks the delightful quietude got to be more de- 
lightful then she could stan’. She never said it 
was that what made her so pow’ful anxious to git 
back to Philadelphy. I knowed though she was tired 
of the country, but I seen she was goin’ to sham it 
out that she wasn’t. I knowed too ef she was as 
big as them hogshead skirts made her look to be, 
an’ she was like other girls, she ’ud be doin’ on half 
rations to cut down her size. I set it down af- 
ter’ards that she was a sham all round; fer she 
’peared to think our ways was all right, but at the 
same time, Polly commenced to call me Mr. 
Richardson. I knowed she put her up to it, fer 
Polly had always said Dan before. 

“One evenin’ I took Polly to meetin’. The 
cousin had a headache, she said, an’ couldn’t go. I 
never suggested mebbe her head might git better 
ef she ’ud ride out. I ast Polly what made her so 
formal with me. She never answered me direct, 
but the tears come in her eyes, an’ I couldn’t find 
no more fault with her then. By an’ by, she sez 
‘Dan,’ an’ I thought it sounded the sweetest it 
ever had. ‘Dan,’ she sez, ‘I wisht paw ’ud lemme 
git more things then he does. When we git mar- 
ried you will, won’t you?’ I cleared up my throat 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


85 


two or three times, an' tole her she looked 'nough 
pootier to me then her Philadelphy cousin did with 
all her finery. An’ I wisht then with all my might 
that that gal had a stayed in Philadelphy. 

“ ‘But you will, won’t you, Dan?’ she plead, with 
the tears still a standin’ in her pooty blue eyes. 

“ ‘I’ll do ever’ thing I kin fer you, Polly,’ I sez. 

“ ‘You will buy me lots o’ pooty things then, 
won’t you, Dan?’ 

“Well, now, shucks! all my calc’latin’ was 
knocked in the head. 

“She persuaded her paw to let her go home 
with her cousin. I never knowed how, but she 
an’ her cousin jiried heads. An’ when two women 
jine heads agin a man, he’s bound to give in. 

“When Polly come back she had some o’ them 
hogshead lookin’ dresses. The first time I went 
to see her she ast me to call her Mary. Mary 
sounded more stylish, she said. 

“ ‘I like Polly the best,’ I tole her. 

“ ‘Well, I’ll call you Daniel ef you will,’ she sez. 

“ ‘Now, Polly,’ I sez, fer I was that determined 
to stick to the Polly, ‘I ’ud feel like I was dressed 
up in the parson’s clo’es ef you wus to, an’ I never 
could grow big ’nough to fill ’em out. Anyhow, 
I ain’t never been up to Philadelphy, you know.’ 

“ ‘Well, mebbe when we git married, we kin go 
to Philadelphy, an’ you kin pick up some then.’ 

“ ‘Now, Polly,’ I sez, ‘let’s reason ’bout this. 
I’m jes’ Dan, an’ you can’t mek Daniel out o’ me. 
Ef you air willin’ to be Polly agin, ef you kin drop 
back to it, we’ll hitch, but ef you haf to be Mary, 
it’ll be best fer both of us fer us never to marry.’ 


86 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


‘‘ ‘I don’t see why you can’t be Daniel,’ she sez. 
‘I’ve got so uster Mary of late that it sorter gives 
me a cold chill to be called Polly.’ 

“ ‘Well,’ I sez, ‘you’ll always be Polly to me, 
cold chills, or no cold chills.’ 

“But I never went back after that night. I 
knowed it wouldn’t do, fer my calc’lations wasn’t 
big ’nough to take keer of a Mary. I seen the 
bridge was down in time to stop the engine from 
tumbling into the crick. 

“Now, Crane is a near-sighted feller ’bout some 
things. He always was. When he comes out o’ 
this scrape, I hope he will put on his fur-seein’ 
specs fer the balance of the trip.” 

“Perhaps he will when I’m through with him,” 
said Bruce. But there was less warmth in his 
manner than he had shown hitherto. 

“Bruce, boy, you lemme manage this fer you ?” 

“You?” said Bruce, with a show of contempt 
for Uncle Dan’s business methods. 

“I know I’m not what you ’ud call a good 
manager, ginerally speakin’. I want to undertake 
this, though, an’ ef I don’t do it satisfactory. I’ll 
not interfere with you agin.” 

“What are you going to do ?” 

“You jes’ leave that with me, an’ you stay here 
at home an’ work fer the nex’ few days.” 

Aunt Jane came in to carry out the dishes, and 
the men rose from the table. 

Early on the following morning Uncle Dan 
stopped to see Captain Morgan on his way to 
transact the business. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 87 

“Won’t you ’light and come in?” called the cap- 
tain, as he walked toward the stile. 

“I ain’t got time this mornin’. I jes’ want to 
see you a minute.” 

“What’s your hurry? We had a good rain last 
night, didn’t we? The crops needed it too; at 
least I thought so.” 

“Yes; but I ain’t got crops on the brain this 
mornin’. Captain.” Uncle Dan then related what 
he knew of the forgery. Afterwards he said : 

“I can’t reason with Bruce when he’s all fired 
up like he is ’bout this. What do you think orter 
be done?” 

Captain Morgan revolved the problem in his 
mind, and then said slowly : 

“I believe it’s best ordinarily for the law to take 
its course. Yet it seems to me this case needs 
different treatment. I can tell you what I would 
do if I could. If I had the money to spare, I 
would turn it over to Alvin, and give the fellow 
that kind of chance to make a man of himself yet. 
As I said, I know that way wouldn’t be best in 
every case, but I would do it this time sure.” 
Captain Morgan groaned in thinking of his lost 
property, but he reflected that when he had it he 
did not look at the moral side of a question as he 
now saw it. 

“Well, I’ve got the money. I haven’t got much 
more, it’s true ; but there ain’t no other way what 
I know of that it ’ll do Bruce more good. So 
I’ll jes’ do as you say.” 

“I almost envy you your ability to do the good 
deed, Uncle Dan!” 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


“Ahem ! Captain, don’t go to pokin’ none o’ yer 
religion at me. I ain’t after that. I jes’ want to 
keep Bruce from gittin’ ship-wrecked, that’s all.” 

“I believe it’s the very thing. Uncle Dan. God 
bless you!” 

Uncle Dan struck his horse. Then he turned 
toward the stile again, and said : 

“Captain, do you think some o’ that ’ud be good 
fer Crane too?” 

“I do; yes.” 

“Saddle yer horse, an’ come along.” 

“Why not you do it?” For a moment the cap- 
tain wished that some one else would perform the 
duty which was distinctly his, for there was no 
other to do it. 

“That’s out o’ my line. Captain. I ain’t up to 
it.” 

A few minutes later the two men rode along 
together. And Captain Morgan thought: 

“What a considerate banker Up Yonder to put 
to our credit just a few words of cheer. It’s about 
all that I have to give anybody now.” 


CHAPTe:r VIII 


Helen rose at four o’clock on Tuesday morning, 
an hour earlier than was her habit. For of all the 
busy days in the year, this one was the busiest — 
it was the day for wheat-thrashing. 

Captain Morgan was already out. He was 
hauling coal to the wheat yard, and completing 
other arrangements before the arrival of the ma- 
chine, which was expected soon after breakfast. 

As Helen crossed and recrossed the back porch 
in performance of her duties, the beautiful color- 
ing on the eastern horizon, the bedecked way for 
the oncoming sun, attracted her attention. Then 
her attitude of admiration yielded to her haste 
to get breakfast over and out of the way. 

When the sun had begun to pour through the 
limbs of the symmetrical red-oak tree in range of 
the back porch, Helen looked again and saw 
negro Mime coming through the pasture to be 
installed as helper for the day. For in spite of the 
preparations which had been made on the previ- 
ous day, the duties were too many and too arduous 
for the discharge of one pair of hands. 

Mrs. Morgan accepted no more attentions that 
morning than her family urged upon her. She re- 
garded her work-basket as the one indispensable 
article. 

The wheat sack had been removed, and several 
small pieces of cloth and a few spools of thread 
had been put into the basket. 

She listened a while to the bustle in the adjoin- 


90 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


ing room, accompanying the preparations for din- 
ner. Then she unfolded the piece of cloth, and 
examined the spools, loosening the end of the 
thread of each, thinking : 

“How Helen needs me! The child does not 
say a word. If she would bear it less silently, I 
think I could endure the yearning in her eyes bet- 
ter.” 

Then she refastened the ends, refolded each 
article, replaced them in the basket, and hugged 
the basket fiercely, thinking : 

“I know she wants me to take hold and do. But 
I can’t! How can I?” She hugged the basket 
again. “What a mother, though, it must seem to 
lie back here and throw the responsibility of this 
day on her young shoulders.” 

She took out the articles again, examined each 
piece of cloth and each spool of thread. Again 
she returned all to the basket, and repeated the 
embrace, thinking: 

“Father wants me to take hold too. He does ! 
I know he does! How dreadful it is to feel that 
things are expected of me and I am not able to 
do them.” 

Neither Captain Morgan nor Helen desired 
Mrs. Morgan to exert herself beyond her strength, 
and they had not consciously intimated by either 
word or manner that they did. Her view of the 
situation perhaps was due somewhat to morbid- 
ness, but largely to lack of spiritual strength. 

She raised herself on her elbow, and then 
dropped back to her pillow. Her mind reverted 
to her childhood’s home. There she perceived 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


91 


the wish of no one that she exert herself. She 
imagined her mother bending over her, and her 
mother's sweet smile beaming upon her. She 
pushed her basket from her, folded her arms, and 
lay long in quiet enjoyment. 

At length she opened her eyes, and discontent 
filled her. She stretched forth her arms as if to 
grasp that peace which she had found, but it was 
gone. Then she lay gazing at the several crevices 
in the ceiling, already knowing the exact curve of 
each tiny part. After a while she turned her body 
and stared at the open door-way of the hall. 

The cat came in presently, jumped upon the 
foot of the bed, and curled up for a nap. 

“Mother, want anything?” asked Helen, thrust- 
ing in her head at the hall door. 

“No, child, no; how are you gettin' on?” 

“All right,” Helen called, as she hurried back to 
the kitchen. 

“My throat is dry,” Mrs. Morgan thought. “I 
haven't had any water since early this mornin'. 
When they are busy all I can do is to want noth- 
ing. I wish I was dead!” And she reached out, 
picked up her work-basket, and pressed it to her 
side. “O Heaven, pity! The physical suffering 
is bad enough, but this is a thousand times worse.” 

“Mother, I thought I would bring you your 
dinner first,” said Helen, reentering the room, 
carrying a tray. “Dinner is about ready to put on 
the table. The men will be here directly, I reck- 
on ; it's most time. How have you got along to- 


92 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


‘'All right. What made you bother about me? 
I don’t need much, and I can wait.” 

Helen partly understood the meaning of the 
scattered pieces of cloth. As she returned them 
to the basket, she remarked: 

“Betsy has been keeping you company, has 
she?” And she threw Betsy to the floor in ac- 
knowledgment to herself of Betsy’s failure to al- 
leviate her mother’s suffering. 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Morgan, out of a desire to 
conceal her disturbance. “Just set the basket up 
here by my pillow,” she said, as she ate of the 
mashed potato. 

Helen rolled down her sleeves, and tied on a 
clean apron. Upon leaving the room, she told 
her mother to knock on the floor with the stick 
that was near if she should want anything else. 

The wheat-field in which stood the thrashing 
machine was enclosed by a rail fence. A larger 
entrance to the field for the day’s use was made 
by removing two or three panels of the fence. 
On the left of this opening a weather-beaten sled 
supported a barrel of ice water. A small locust 
tree in the fence corner furnished for the barrel 
a scanty shade. At the termination of two panels, 
a poison-ivy wound in and out. A broad level 
space showed on the top rail near the locust. The 
laborers came to drink at the water barrel, but 
none of them discovered the comfortable seat that 
the place afforded. Two or three climbed up and 
seated themselves on the sharp edge of a neigh- 
boring rail as they waited their turns to unload a 
wagon. At different times, knots of three or four 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


93 


collected about the sled, some sitting upon it, and 
others propping themselves against the barrel. 

The thrashing was well under way. Uncle Dan 
came, and walked around the machine. He 
watched the engineering, the feeding of the thrasher, 
the stacking of the straw, the sacking of the thrashed 
grain, and further fatigued himself by leaning 
against the stack of wheat sacks. Then the seat 
received an occupant. 

‘‘How come you to see that?” asked Mr. Pearce, 
a respected man of the neighborhood. He mop- 
ped his brow with his red bandanna handkerchief, 
and drained the pint tin cup. “It’s hot to-day, 
Uncle Dan ; it’s enough to make all of us feel like 
settin’ in the shade.” 

“But don’t none the rest of us know how to look 
fer the right sort of seats, at least don’t none of 
us find ’em?” 

The man who last spoke tied his handkerchief 
around his neck, and then picked up a tin cup. 

“This was here before I come,” said Uncle Dan, 
as he shifted himself about and leaned against the 
tree. “All o’ you was here before I was, too.” 

“That’s so,” said the engineer, leering at the 
crowd with his deep-set eyes. “But we haven’t none 
of us had time to look fer the best places.” His soot- 
marked face broke into a scowl which he intended 
for a smile. 

“And he ain’t had time to do nothin’ else,” re- 
marked Mr. Pearce. 

“They are hard on you to-day,” said Bob Clain. 
“They just envy you, that’s all. Stick to your 
seat. Uncle Dan. I’m comin,” he called to the 


94 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


driver on his wagon. Then he went off with rapid 
strides, overtaking the wagon, and jumping on it 
as it rolled away to the next field to load up with 
more wheat. 

‘‘Fm us'ter that,” replied Uncle Dan, for the 
benefit of the men remaining. 

‘T reckon you think if you have a good place, 
it don’t matter much if them in the field do point 
at you and say they orter knowed that it took you 
to find it,” remarked Mr. Jones, another neigh- 
bor. And he nodded meaningly at Bruce Turner, 
who was coming toward the water barrel. 

The crowd joined in a knowing laugh, from 
which Uncle Dan refrained at first. Then he 
laughed as heartily as any one, thinking : 

^‘Ef a feller is lucky he has the right to git as 
much fun out of it as any o’ the balance.” 

“It’s hot on that straw stack,” Bruce said. 
“Jerry gave out, and so I told him to get on the 
wagon, and I would take his place. I didn’t have 
a sponge to put over my nose; and I’m most 
choked with the dust.” He reached into the bar- 
rel, and dipped up a cup of the iced water. 

Across the adjoining field came three figures: 
one, that of a half-grown negro girl; one, that of 
a little barefoot boy who was picking his way cau- 
tiously over the sharp ends of the wheat straw; 
the other, that of a still smaller girl. Finally the 
attendant yielded to the pleadings of the little one 
and carried her. 

When near the thrashing-machine, little Annie 
was content to sit down by the straw-stack, as she 
was bidden, and watch the yellow grains pour into 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


95 


the half-bushel measures. Not so with Joel; he 
desired to investigate the operations. So he went 
to the sackers and made numerous inquiries. He 
caught his hands full of the falling grains, chocked 
his mouth, and then ran away with some for little 
Annie. 

“Stay here, Joel,’’ called the negro girl. But 
Joel either did not hear, or affected not to hear, and 
bounced off again to the side of Captain Morgan, 
who was assisting in sacking the wheat. 

“I want to help,” Joel said. 

“You are too little yet,” said the captain; “you 
can’t lift the measure. Run along.” 

“I can do another way, though.” And he jerked 
off his hat and held it, getting it full of wheat. 

Bill Graham looked astonishment at Captain 
Morgan, and Captain Morgan looked back at Bill 
and acknowledged defeat. 

“Here ’tis,” said Joel, presenting his hat at the 
mouth of the sack. 

“Much obliged to you, son,” said the captain, 
taking the offered wheat ; “but that will be 
enough now.” 

“Why, your sack ain’t full.” But as Joel was 
about to fill his hat the second time, Pearly con- 
fronted him with inflexible commands: 

“You come here, or I’ll tell your ma, and she 
won’t let you come back any more. Come on.” 
Then she took his hand and led him to the water 
barrel. This she decided was a safer place for 
him and a pleasanter one for herself. 

“Howdy, chillun,” called out Uncle Dan, as 
they drew near. “Did you come to help us?” 


96 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 


“They wouldn’t let me,” answered Joel. 

“I didn’t want to,” said little Annie. 

“But she would eat all the wheat I’d pack her.” 

“No, I didn’t; it was so hard I couldn’t chew it 
much.” 

“Here’s somethin’ you kin chaw better,” said 
Uncle Dan, producing a caramel from his pocket, 
and then lowering himself slowly to the ground. 

Little Annie accepted the candy and smiled. 

“How did you know we was cornin’?” asked 
Joel, stepping up expectantly. 

“I knowed we couldn’t git along without you,” 
replied Uncle Dan, fumbling in his pocket for an- 
other caramel. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Joel. “What did you 
say, Annie?” 

“Thank you, sir,” repeated the baby. 

“But I b’lieve that’s not enough from little 
Annie. I think I want a kiss.” He took the child 
in his arms. 

“Well,” the baby said, and touched Uncle Dan’s 
lips lightly. Then she scoured across her mouth 
with her sleeve. 

“She don’t like your mustache,” said Joel, in 
explanation of little Annie’s behavior. “I wouldn’t 
either; it’s mushy.” And he turned and sped 
to the next fence corner on his hands and knees. 

“Uncle Dan,” called Joel from his nook when 
he had finished his candy, “if you had enough car- 
amels to sack, you ’ud let me help you, wouldn’t 
you?” 

The crowd laughed, and Uncle Dan said : 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


97 


“I would that, Joel ! I ain’t got ’nough fer that, 
but here’s a few more.” 

“Thank you, sir. Is this all you’ve got? If ’tis. 
I’ll give Annie some.” 

“You eat them. I’ll take keer o’ her.” 

“Is wheat-thrashin’ as big as you thought it 
would be?” asked Mr. Pearce, who came for 
another drink of water. 

“Yes, sir; I reckon so,” answered Joel; “but 
I haven’t seen the dinner yet.” 

“Now you’re talkin’,” said some one. “I’m be- 
ginnin’ to feel like I would like mighty well to see 
it myself. I reckon we will directly ; they’re ’bout 
through. They wanted to finish before they 
stopped.” 

“Is the engine as big as you thought it would 
be ?” asked Mr. Pearce, still directing his conver- 
sation to Joel. 

“I knowed; I had seen it before.” 

“I can remember when I was about his size and 
a little older,” said Mr. Pearce, turning to the 
crowd, “that I thought wheat-thrashin’ was the 
biggest thing in the whole year except Christmas.” 

“Neither of them is like it used to be, is it?” 
said Bruce Turner, whose chord of youthful mem- 
ories had been struck. 

“It don’t take so many years, after all, to get to 
that place, does it?” answered Mr. Pearce, look- 
ing at Bruce. “Bein’ in the thick of the fight is 
different from lookin’ on through a mist at a dis- 
tance.” 

The whistle on the engine blew. So the men 
7 


98 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


unhitched the horses from the wagons and went 
toward the house, some riding and some walking. 

Uncle Dan lifted little Annie to his shoulder, 
and strode off with the others. 

‘‘I wants to ride,’' pleaded the child. 

‘‘I do too,” said Joel to Uncle Dan. 

‘"But I haven’t got no horse.” 

'Uome with me,” said Mr. Pearce, stretching 
forth his arms to little Annie. 

“I don’t want to; I wants to ride with Uncle 
Dan.” 

‘‘I do too,” chimed in Joel. 

"^Take that horse yonder,” said Captain Mor- 
gan, coming up and seeing Uncle Dan’s predica- 
ment. 

Annie, are you goin’ to ride behind?” asked 
Joel. 

‘‘I’m goin’ to ride in front,” she replied. 

“Well, I want to, too,” said Joel. “What are we 
goin’ to do?” 

“I’m goin’ to ride in front,” persisted she. 

“Yes, you better, I reckon; you might fall off 
behind.” 

“You come and go with me,” said Bruce 
Turner. 

“I want to go with Uncle Dan, but I want to 
ride in front.” 

“I’ll let you ride in front,” said Bruce. 

“But you are not Uncle Dan.” 

“Now here, chillun, I can’t take both o’ you in 
front. Ef I was some folks I might try it, but I 
know I can’t do it without lettin’ one or t’other 
fall.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


99 


‘'I reckon I ’ll have to go with Mr. Bruce, then,” 
said Joel. ‘^Mamma said she ’spected he would be 
my uncle anyway some day. I wish Aunt Milly 
would marry Uncle Dan, though.” 

“Come on, Joel,” said Bruce, blushing to the 
roots of his hair, while Uncle Dan and Captain 
Morgan laughed. 

“Who came with you?” asked Bruce, as he rode 
along. 

“Just mamma; Aunt Milly went on to her 
home.” 

“I have felt a little prejudiced against the child 
on his father’s account,” thought Bruce. “It’s 
small of me, too. I won’t be so mean.” He ran 
his hand into his pocket, took out a fifty-cent 
piece, and offered it to the boy. “Take it and buy 
you some candy,” he said. 

Joel eyed the money with interest, and then 
said : 

“I would like to have the candy. Papa told me, 
though, a long time ago, that I must never take 
any money that I hadn’t worked for ; and I haven’t 
worked for that.” 

“But when anybody gives you some as a pres- 
ent, it’s different.” 

“He didn’t say ’bout that. He just said not 
take any I hadn’t worked for, and I’m afraid it 
wouldn’t be right.” 

“You are a mighty good little fellow,” said 
Bruce, as he put the money back into his pocket. 
He thought that the child had produced a 
stronger argument in the father’s favor than half 
a dozen lawyers could have done. 


100 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


‘'No; Fm not good much. Fm just a little boy. 
When I get big like papa, then I’ll be good like 
him. I’m ’bliged to you though for wantin’ to 
give it to me. I know you meant to be good, but 
you didn’t know.” 

And Bruce reflected upon his experience with 
the father: 

“Did I mean to be good when I didn’t know? 
No; I meant to be mean when I thought I did 
know.” 

Helen sent Mime to the fence to see if the men 
were in sight. She was anxious for them to come 
before the dinner should spoil. 

“Yes’m, they is cornin’,” Mime called. Then 
she returned to the porch. There Nina Crane 
waited with Helen. 

“I didn’t intend to be so late,” Nina said; “but 
I could not get off any sooner, it seemed.” 

“It’s good of you to come at all,” said Helen. 

“I thought you would need some extra help 
about the table. There are always so many men, 
and they all want to be waited on at once, it looks 
like.” 

Soon the men streamed in from the barn. 
They poured water into the shining tin wash-pans 
out of the buckets which had been filled for that 
purpose, washed their faces and hands, and 
combed their heads. 

Helen had lengthened the usual dining table 
with two small tables and a large box. 

Captain Morgan seated himself at one end of 
the table, and Uncle Dan sat down at the other 
end. 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


lOI 


After grace, Helen, Nina, and Mime hurried 
around with the dishes. 

Captain Morgan exchanged remarks with his 
neighbors on each side. Uncle Dan talked; he 
always had something to say to Helen and Nina 
when either passed anything to him. 

“A fine dinner. Miss Helen,” he said once ; “the 
best one we’ve had yit.” 

“And he ought to know,” spoke up Mr. Pearce, 
“for he goes to ’em all.” 

“I do know,” said Uncle Dan, laughing. “I’m 
a good jedge.” 

“Have butter. Uncle Dan?” said Nina, follow- 
ing Helen. 

“Ef you please.” And, as he reached up to lay 
hold of the butter knife, Helen accidentally jostled 
Nina, causing the plate to fall bottom upwards on 
Uncle Dan’s coat sleeve. 

“Miss Nina, I didn’t ’spose you ’ud think I was 
greedy ’nough to want it ever’ bit, ef I do take in 
all the dinners.” 

Nina and Helen both made apologies, and 
wiped off the butter the best they could. 

Joel and little Annie stood in the hall door, 
watching while the men ate. Upon seeing that 
Uncle Dan was in trouble,, Joel said : 

“If you’ll put some soap on it and rub it hard, 
it’ll come out. I wouldn’t cry ’bout that.” 

Eittle Annie went near, and whispered : 

“I hopes it’s not your Sunday coat.” 

When the men left for the field. Uncle Dan said 
that he had had thrashing enough for one day. So 


102 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


he decided to go in and talk a while to Mrs. Mor- 
gan. 

On his way to the room, he stopped near the 
table, where Helen, Nina, and the children sat 
eating, and remarked: 

“Miss Helen, I say agin you had the finest din- 
ner, the best cooked dinner we’ve had yit.” 

“Uncle Dan, you are very kind, but I know I’m 
nothing to brag on as a cook.” 

“How air you to-day?” Uncle Dan asked, en- 
tering the room unceremoniously. “Why, I 
thought mebbe you ’ud be up to-day.” 

“She has been setting up in bed a while,” said 
the captain. “She has just laid down again; she 
seems to be a little weak to-day. I think she’ll 
feel stronger after she rests a while.” 

“How do you do. Uncle Dan?” Mrs. Morgan 
said, at length, opening her eyes. 

“Ef you jes’ knowed how well Miss Helen man- 
aged the dinner, you wouldn’t want to set foot in 
the kitchen as long as she stays with you. Ef I 
wasn’t gittin’ so ole, an’ a losin’ of my good looks 
’long with it, I ’ud take her away myse’f.” 

Mrs. Morgan twisted the corner of the coun- 
terpane, saying: 

“It’s been a right hard day on Helen.” Then 
asked, “How many men, father?” 

“Twenty-seven in all.” 

“Jes’ twenty-six what count,” said Uncle Dan. 
“I don’t count nowheres but at the table.” Then 
he turned to Captain Morgan, and remarked, “I 
b’lieve they air goin’ to Mr. Pearce’s nex’.” 


AMONG TUB MBADOWS 


103 


“Yes/’ said the captain, fanning away a fly from 
Mrs. Morgan’s face. 

“You goin’?” 

“I’ll stay here this evenin’,” Captain Morgan re- 
plied, still looking at his wife. 

“No you won’t, father. I know you ought to 
be lookin’ after the haulin’ of the wheat or some- 
thin’ else.” Then she thought: “How much 
easier it is to suffer, just to suffer, than it is to 
have him waiting on me when all the time he’s 
thinkin’ of things outside that he ought to be 
doin’. It’s so hard ! Oh, so hard !” 

Later, when Helen came in to beat up the pil- 
lows and make the bed more comfortable for the 
night, Mrs. Morgan pushed the work-basket 
toward her, saying: 

“It’s been a busy day, and a hard one, child. I 
hope you will have a chance to rest some to- 
morrow.” 


CHAPTER IX 


On the Thursday afternoon following the 
wheat-thrashing at Captain Morgan’s, Uncle Dan 
left home for Meadowville. Seeing Captain Mor- 
gan and Helen in their garden as he went along, 
he rode up to the fence and called out : 

'‘Good evenin’. Captain. Good evenin’. Miss 
Helen. It looks like there’s plenty o’ beans fer 
Miss Helen to pick without no more hoein’. Cap- 
tain.” 

'T’m not hoein’ the beans, though,” said the cap- 
tain, going toward the fence, carrying his hoe. 

"I see; but you must have hoed ’em consider- 
able from the quantity there is on the vines. When 
Miss Helen goes to pick ’em, I know she thinks 
you’ve overdone the job. So don’t make it hard 
on her with the other veg’tables. Ef you hadn’t 
give us all so much t’other day, Bruce would ’a’ 
been better off, I expect.” 

“Why, he sick?” asked the captain, catching 
hold of a paling with his disengaged hand. 

“He was pooty sick Tuesday night an’ yestiddy. 
He’s up though to-day.” 

“Who’s sick?” asked Helen, leaving her pan 
of beans and going to the fence. 

“Bruce. He got too much o’ yer good dinner.” 

“I’m sorry,” said she, in real sympathy. Then 
added in a spirit of mischief, “It couldn’t have 
been the dinner, you know; for it was well cooked 
— you told me so.” 

“It wasn’t the cookin’.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


105 


‘‘It couldn’t have been/’ she spoke positively, 
and then laughed. 

“Bruce, he got so warm over there on the hay- 
stack; you remember he did. Captain?” 

“Yes, I know,” assented the captain. 

“Then he drunk so much ice water. Captain 
here he had hoed his garden so much an’ made 
veg’tables so plentiful, an’ you had cooked ’em 
so temptin’ that a feller could not help eatin’ ’em. 
So altogether Bruce he got sick. You see, Helen, 
how good things kin be put to bad use sometimes. 
But yer paw kin tell you more about sech as that 
then I kin, fer I ain’t much o’ a han’ at it myse’f ; 
besides, I must be goin’ on fer that medicine.” 

“I hope Bruce will soon be well,” said the cap- 
tain, as Uncle Dan rode away. He then turned 
and resumed his hoeing. 

“I hope you will be sparing with your compli- 
ments next time, Mr. Richardson, unless they are 
deserved,” called Helen. 

“Now, Miss Helen,” said Uncle Dan, stopping, 
“air you goin’ to be like all the balance o’ the 
women? Air you goin’ to have yer own way in 
spite o’ me tellin’ you that it wasn’t the cookin’ what 
done it?” 

“I know I don’t know how to do it the way it 
should be done,” Helen spoke out loud, as she 
walked between the rows of beans to her pan. “I 
hate it so, too, that I wouldn’t want to learn if I 
had a chance.” 

Captain Morgan caught a few words, and so he 
watched his daughter as she stared off abstractedly 


io6 AMONG THB MEADOWS 

between the handfuls of beans which she plucked 
and dropped into the pan. 

“What is the matter?” he asked, hoeing near 
Helen, and stopping. “Tell me, can’t you?” 

“Don’t ask me, father,” she said, picking the 
beans more rapidly. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t done my duty by you, 
child.” he said. As he stood, looking at her, he 
thought: “I have desired the best for her. I 
know that; that is, I’ve wanted what I thought 
was the best. But I see now how it’s been. I’ve 
regretted over and over being unable to give her 
the good things of this world, but it’s never oc- 
curred to me before that I have never helped her 
lay up anything for the other world.” He drove 
his hoe into the loamy soil. “Neglect of my 
daughter’s best interest,” he thought. He drew 
out the hoe, and drove it in again. Then he let 
the handle fall to the ground, stepped over a row 
of beans, and said: 

“Daughter, I humbly apologize to you for my 
neglect of duty to you.” 

“O father, don’t!” she protested. “Why, don’t 
I know you can’t help it ? I don’t blame you.” 

“But I blame myself. I ought to have helped 
you long ago.” 

“O father, you could not prevent our misfor- 
tunes !” 

“But I have never helped you to make the best 
use of the misfortunes. I blame myself for that.” 

Helen looked up, and said: 

“There is no need for you to blame yourself. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


107 


If our troubles had not come I could go on with 
my drawing.” 

'‘You still desire that, do you?” 

“Almost as much as life itself, it seems to me.” 

After thinking for a short time, the captain 
said: “Well, it may be that the Lord intends for 
you to do that kind of work.” 

“How can you think so now? But, father, I 
never meant to bother you with this.” 

“I know you didn't. But I understand now a 
good many things that I've attributed to other 
causes.” He thought of Helen's manner on sev- 
eral occasions. “You should have told me. No, 
I was the one. I should have taken greater pains 
to find out.” 

“Father, don't,” she pleaded. “Let's not talk 
any more about it.” And she rose to go. 

“Wait, daughter,” he said, motioning to her to 
put down the pan. “Have you ever asked God 
about this?” 

“Why, no, sir.” She stooped, and picked up a 
tiny clod of earth and crumbled it. “But, father, 
I'm perfectly willing to stay here at home. I 
could not think of doing anything else now. I'm 
willing to do my duty — try to do it.” 

“But if you don't develop the talent which God 
has given you, I'm afraid you won't be doing your 
whole duty.” 

“Father!” And she looked up at him through 
tears. 

“You haven't asked Him to direct you as He 
sees best toward developing your talent.” 

“I don't understand how it can be done.” 


io8 AMONG THB MBADOWS 

'1 don’t either, child ; but you ought to ask God 
about it.” Then he dropped to his knees on the bean 
vines, crushing them to the earth, and prayed: 

God! forgive my neglect, and help daugh- 
ter. Help her to do in this world whatsoever 
Thou wouldst have her do. Lead her into the 
way wherein Thou wouldst have her serve Thee, 
wherein she can produce the most abundant har- 
vest for eternity. Use my life to that end as Thou 
seest fit. Thou knowest it all. O Father, help.” 

Then he rose and straightened the vines. 
^'Daughter, God is faithful,” he said. “He will do 
His part; now you must do yours. Ask Him to 
open a way for you, and if He thinks best. He 
will.” 

“Will He?” she asked, simply. 

“Did you never hear of God’s opening a way for 
anybody ?” 

“I have heard something of the kind from the 
pulpit.” 

“But you did not realize that He could help 
you, did you?” 

“But, father, no one knows how I’ve suffered,” 
she confided. 

“You have been sick and didn’t call in the Phys- 
ician.” 

“I have been sick, if that’s what you call it.^’ 

“This desire has harrowed the ground for the 
seed. Now let me tell you, child: It will be well 
for you to measure your capabilities the best you 
can. You are old enough to mark out a plan of 
life. Do this, and then never swerve from your 
plan, except as you alter it to accord with your 


AMONG THE MEADOWS log 

fuller understanding, or to readjust it to God’s 
will. I mean have some plan, an object in view; 
don’t live aimlessly. Admit honors and pleasures 
into this great scheme as mere incidentals. When 
they come in that way, and they do sometimes, 
they are all well and good. Regard them then as 
an extra amount to be turned to account. Often 
they do not come, even though you should be 
doing your best. Then be consoled that they 
await you in another world. Whether your ca- 
pacity warrants the making of your plan on a 
large scale or a small one, if your motive be to win 
your Master’s approval, the smallest plan will 
bring great results.” 

'T should make the most of life, then, for His 
sake, should I? If I were as good as you are I 
might.” Her face showed marks of distress. 

‘T make out very bad. I’m afraid. It’s a ham- 
mering of self all along the way. But, then, when 
I aim at the right, I think I can’t fail utterly. It’s 
the only way to lay up any treasures in Heaven.” 

Helen took up her pan. ^‘Father,” she said, 
“I’m grateful to you for this talk.” Then she went 
to the house, and put away the beans for the next 
day’s use. 

Captain Morgan hung his hoe on the fence, and 
stepped in to speak to Mrs. Morgan before com- 
mencing the evening chores. 

When he entered the room she lay watching the 
round face of the small metal clock on the mantel- 
shelf. 

“You are all right, are you?” he asked, going 
near her. As the expression fell upon his ears, it 


no 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


conveyed to his mind a deeper meaning than the 
one which the question implied. And his own 
thoughts gave back the answer. 

“What! am I to question Fanny’s spiritual 
welfare ?” 

His wife had been the barometer from which he 
had gaged his temperature, according to the rise 
and fall of the mercury of her feelings. 

“Fanny’s needs are simply physical ones,” he 
persuaded himself. “It’s not so bad as it might 
be.” And he smiled down upon her. 

“If you had to lay here day in and day out, you 
wouldn’t smile, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Morgan. 

He thought of his aversion to remaining long 
in the house at any time, and said; 

“That’s right. I’m afraid I wouldn’t. The Lord 
can work wonderful changes though. If you 
didn’t know his love and sympathy, it would be 
much harder for you, wouldn’t it?” 

“That’s all well enough for you to talk when 
you are able to go about, but you don’t know how 
bad it is to stay here nearly all the time.” She 
looked in the direction of her work-basket, for 
which she had not asked since wheat-thrashing 
day. 

Her husband followed her eyes, and then re- 
marked : 

“I’m so glad we are through thrashing wheat.” 

“Yes; I always feel as if we ’ud have a rest after 
that,” she said. 

Captain Morgan went on then to feed the stock. 
While the hogs were eating their corn, he stood 
by the fence near them and thought on his recent 


AMONG THB MHADOWS 


III 


conception of his duty to his family. “God have 
mercy on me and on them,” he said, as he turned 
to go. 

Helen pondered her father’s words, and did as 
he advised. When she lay down to sleep that 
night she dreamed that she wore a covering over 
her face; that it was crossed at the back of her 
head, and that she held the ends in her hands. 
She struggled to see, asking one and another to 
remove it, but none could help her until she 
yielded her clasp. Then God stretched forth His 
hand and took off the cloth. She looked and be- 
held her image as in a mirror, seeing her talent as 
a power to be employed in God’s service. 


CHAPTER X 


When Alvin Crane restored the money to Bruce 
Turner, he knew that Captain Morgan and Uncle 
Dan had prevailed upon the bank authorities not 
to prosecute him. And he hoped that his escape 
from prosecution would cause his offense to as- 
sume smaller proportions in the eyes of his wife 
when he should tell her. This disagreeable duty 
he postponed from time to time, but at length he 
determined to do it. Therefore one night he re- 
lated the whole of his poor miserable story. He 
touched lightly the part which her influence had 
played, alluding to it only as her taste demanded 
such things as he could not afford to buy. He 
blamed himself for his misdoing, and expressed 
repentance for it. 

“But people know about it,” sobbed Nina. 

“Yes; I reckon they do. Some do, anyhow.” 

“How in the world will I ever hold my own 
among them any more? It was hard enough be- 
fore.” 

This view of the situation vexed Alvin, and so 
he went to bed without exchanging further words 
with his wife. 

Nina lay awake a long while, grieving over the 
way in which the sin would affect her with the 
world. The next morning she did not rise. 

Later in the day her father called. When she 
had told him of the circumstance, he said : 

“But Alvin didn’t have a very big trade.” Not 
that Mr. Morgan approved of the action, but he 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


113 

used the argument to assist in maintaining* his 
composure. 

'‘Father !” said Nina, surprised at his reasoning. 

Mr. Morgan only groaned, and apparently in- 
creased the length of his long legs by stretching 
them toward the hearth-rug. Soon he got up and 
went home. 

He hitched his horse at the stile, and stopped in 
the front yard where Camilla was digging around 
the geraniums. He took a package of mail from 
his coat pocket, looked through it, and handed his 
daughter two letters and a magazine. Then he 
asked where Mrs. Morgan was. 

'Tn the cellar,” answered Camilla, intent upon 
the postmark of a letter. 

Mr. Morgan found his wife busily employed in 
labeling some jars of plum preserves. He went 
near her, and watched her movements in silence 
for a few minutes. Then he said : 

"Alvin has been hard up lately.” 

"That’s nothin’ new,” declared Mrs. Morgan; 
"he’s always that, ain’t he?” She pushed aside a 
jar. 

"He’s forged a check on Bruce Turner.” 

"Forged — check — on — Bruce — Turner !” 

"But his trade has been small,” said Mr. Cliff 
Morgan, recognizing the need of resorting to his 
former argument. 

"Trade’s been small? C. D. !” 

Mr. Morgan turned to go up the steps. 

"C. D., stop. Who told you?” 

"Nina.” 

8 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


1 14 

‘^Can they prosecute him?” asked Mrs. Clif¥ 
Morgan, to make sure that her vague knowledge 
of such matters was not leading her to wrong con- 
clusions. 

‘"They ain’t goin’ to do it.” 

‘‘Well !” said she, as if she were relieved. Then 
in a crescendo voice, she declared: 

“But what a disgrace! C. D., can’t you do 
nothin’ ?” She depended upon his masculine 
handling of all affairs of significance. “What will 
poor Nina do ? The disgrace of it — the disgrace.” 

Mr. Morgan continued his ascent of the steps, 
endeavoring to hold fast to the thought that cir- 
cumstances had conspired against Alvin. 

Mrs. Morgan finished putting away her pre- 
serves, and then went out of the cellar, and called 
Camilla. 

But Camilla had resumed her work, and at first 
did not hear. 

She had suspended her digging sufficiently long 
to read her letters and to turn rapidly the pages 
of her magazine. Then she had placed them in a 
heap beside her. 

Digging around the flowers was not a labor of 
love with her. She went about the job, however, 
as she went about many other duties, conscious of 
her dislike for the work, and finished, as she often 
finished others, by trying to get some amusement 
from the task. 

“What a beautiful show-window you make!” 
she thought on this occasion. “All for the benefit 
of my new hats, too. Some of you are plumes; 
some birds with long tails, the longer, the better.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS iiS 

And she laughed. “I wouldn’t care if they were 
as long as that of a bird of paradise. Bird of para- 
dise! That’s the one, now isn’t it?” She tried to 
laugh, but could not. ‘‘Others of you are shiny 
buckles,” she continued, “and some are ribbons — 
great, heavy satin ribbons. For he says it must 
come off this fall, and that is not the season for 
flowers.” She spaded up a bunch of grass. “I’ll 
not have any green on my wedding-hats and be 
reminded of the country by it if I am to set up 
my new life in the woods.” Then she turned her 
sunbonneted face toward the house, and called, 
“I’m coming !” 

When she entered the dining-room, her mother 
met her with: 

“You must eat your dinner and get ready quick. 
We must go to your sister this afternoon. Alvin 
has gone and forged a check. Poor child I she has 
had enough to try her.” 

“On whom did he forge the check,” inquired 
Camilla. 

“On Bruce Turner, your father said.” 

“On Bruce Turner? Well, then, I think you 
ought to stay at home and console me. For I’ll 
never get to spend the money, and Nina already 
has it.” 

“Camilla Morgan !” And Mrs. Morgan waddled 
about the room, steaming with anger, and placed 
the butter on the table in a soup plate instead of 
the butter dish. 

There had been other times lately when Camilla 
had seemed to overreach her mother by self- 
assertion. 


ii6 AMONG THB MEADOWS 

As Mrs. Morgan and her daughter drove along 
together that afternoon, Camilla asked: 

“What has Bruce done?” 

Mrs. Morgan retold all that she knew about the 
forgery. Then Camilla seized the opportunity to 
present her views concerning matrimony in gen- 
eral and her own marriage in particular. It was 
a seasonable time for her to gain against her 
mother’s frequently expressed opinions. She rec- 
ognized her opportunity, and made the most of it. 
She even urged her mother into saying, “Yes, a 
girl ’d better live single always than endure dis- 
grace like this.” When they arrived at Nina’s, the 
children met them at the stile, and Mrs. Morgan 
asked : 

“How is your mamma?” 

“She’s all right, I reckon,” replied Joel; “she’s 
in the parlor.” 

Mrs. Morgan went to the house, and left Ca- 
milla to hitch the horse. 

Nina looked up from her employment, sur- 
prised, for she did not see the buggy stop. 

“What are you doin’, child, shut up in this hot 
room?” asked Mrs. Morgan, opening the door 
wide. 

“O mother! Father told you, did he?” Nina 
rose, and threw her arms about her mother. “It’s 
awful, isn’t it?” 

“It’s disgraceful!” 

And the two women sat down and talked the mat- 
ter over. 

In compliance with the children’s request, Ca- 
milla went to their playhouse. She was glad of 


AMONG TUB MBADOWS 


117 

the excuse to absent herself from the society of 
her mother and sister for a while. 

At length Nina said: 

“I thought I would take up the carpet in here 
and get a hard-wood covering. They come 
already to tack down on the floor. They are so 
much used with rugs. Mrs. Casey has a beautiful 
one. What do you think about my having the 
wall re-papered with solid pink paper ? Don’t you 
think it would be pretty? I’ll have to do some- 
thing to hold my own.” 

Mrs. Morgan took off her hat and laid it on a 
chair. She drew off her driving-gloves, and rolled 
one glove over the other, and then fastened them in 
her hat with her hat-pin. Afterwards, she replied : 

‘Tt makes me so mad, I can’t hardly talk. Here 
you are doin’ your best to fix up a home for him, 
and have things nice like other people, and to 
think — ” She got up and went into the sitting- 
room. 

Nina followed, bursting forth afresh in tears 
and saying: ‘T don’t see why some people have 
to have so much trouble, while others don’t have 
any. Mrs. Casey is always as calm and sweet- 
tempered, and never seems to know there is such 
a thing as trouble in the world. But who couldn’t 
be if they had her money to go on, and her pleas- 
ant surroundings ? I could be, I know.” 

Mrs. Morgan sat in a rocking-chair, rocking, 
and interposing an occasional “Disgrace !” be- 
tween series of jerks of her head. 

After a short time, Nina lay down on the couch, 
complaining of headache. 


ii8 AMONG THE MEADOWS 

'‘I don’t wonder at it, child,” said the mother. 
And she opened a medicine-chest in the corner, 
and took down the camphor bottle, which she gave 
to Nina. “I better take the children home with 
me. 

“I wish you would, for I don’t feel like worrying 
with them.” 

Mrs. Morgan went to the door, and called Ca- 
milla to bring in the children. She bundled up a 
few changes of clothing for them, and bade Ca- 
milla wipe their faces and hands. 

“How thankful you ought to be that it’s not 
you who has this to endure,” said Nina, when her 
sister told her good-by. 

Mrs. Morgan stooped and kissed Nina, and 
then left her to the comforts of her camphor 
bottle. 

Soon after supper, Camilla went to her room. 
She placed the lamp on the table, and sat down 
to look over the magazine which she had received 
that morning. She opened it at an illustrated 
article entitled “Sights of New York.” Among 
the pictures were portions of streets crowded 
with people. 

She pored over the pictures, and read the article 
with absorbing interest. Then she rose and paced 
up and down the room. Once when she came 
near the dressing-case, she saw her letters of the 
morning lying upon it. She took them up, re- 
turned to her chair, and reread them. 

In one was an invitation from a relative in Cin- 
cinnati to visit her. The other was from Bruce 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


1 19 

Turner. He wished to call on the second evening 
following. 

When Camilla finished reading Bruce’s letter, 
she let it fall into her lap. Then she put her elbow 
on the table and her head in her hand, and tried 
to think. 

The result was a determination to break her 
engagement of marriage. She would pretend 
either that she was afraid to marry since her sister 
had had trouble, or that she did not wish to em- 
barrass Bruce by bringing him into a closer re- 
lationship with the man who had wronged him. 


CHAPTER XI 


“Come in!’' called Bruce Turner, looking up 
from a photograph album. He saw two heads 
bobbing just outside of the open door. 

“Well, if you think I’ll do,” answered Joel. And 
he went toward the sofa on which Bruce sat. 
“Gran’ma told me ’while ago that I wasn’t clean 
’nough for company, but I reckon I’m all right 
now.” 

Bruce beheld a shiny face, and hair which still 
dripped with water. The wet knees of the small 
trousers bore further evidence of Joel’s desire to 
command a respectable appearance. The feet and 
legs, from haste, were left to the atmosphere to 
dry. 

“You’re all right. Sit down.” 

“Go back, Annie, you won’t do,” said Joel, 
turning to the other little figure which hesitated 
on the threshold. 

“Yes, you will,” said Bruce. “Come on.” 

“Wait a minute.” And the little bare feet pat- 
ted across the hall, bent on the execution of a new 
idea. 

“You didn’t know I was here, did you?” asked 
Joel, as he seated himself on the sofa beside Bruce. 

“Yes, I did. You like to stay here, don’t you?” 

“I would like it all right if papa was here. 
Whose picture are you lookin’ at?” 

“Whose do you say it is ?” 

“You look better now, Annie,” said Joel, look- 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


121 


ing in the direction of the door; “but you forgot 
your feet and your dress.” 

Ivittle Annie squatted at the end of the sofa, 
spreading her frock over her feet. 

Bruce picked up the child and seated her on his 
lap. He smoothed back the wet hair and looked 
at the clean, shiny features. 

“Can’t you tell me whose picture this is ?” 

“Why, it’s Aunt Milly when she was a little girl. 
Do you think she was a pretty little girl?” And 
she bent her head over the photograph. 

“Let me see,” said Joel, laying hold of the 
book. 

“Wait.” Little Annie jerked back the album, 
and looked again at the picture. 

“Joel, when you go out, if you will look on the 
hat-rack, you will find a box of candy,” said Bruce. 

“Well, ain’t some of it for Aunt Milly?” He 
ran out to fetch it. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, returning with the 
box. “Ain’t any of it for Aunt Milly?” 

“I brought it every bit to you. You can do as 
you please with it.” 

“Oh, ain’t it a lot! You are a fine fellow any- 
how, gran’pa said. Aunt Milly, she said you 
would do, and I think so too. But of course I’ll 
give her some. Here, Aunt Milly, take some of 
it.” He held out the open box to that young lady, 
who was then entering the room. 

“It’s nice, Joel, but I don’t wish any to-night.” 

“She’s afraid it might make her stomach hurt 
her if she eats it to-night, I reckons,” said little 
Annie. 


122 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Hush ! sh ! She means Aunt Milly might 
have bad dreams/’ explained Joel, looking at 
Bruce. “Annie always does when she eats it at 
night.” 

“So do you,” said little Annie. 

“Well, I think you’d better see gran’ma,” 
pleaded Camilla, facing the piano in her confu- 
sion. 

“I will if you’ll play that little jig of a piece,” 
said Joel. 

Camilla, glad of the opportunity, seated herself 
at the piano and commenced playing the re- 
quested jig. 

Little Annie slid down from Bruce’s lap and 
joined her brother in capering over the floor, en- 
deavoring to dance. 

Soon Jim thrust in his head at the door, saying : 

“Your gran’ma says fer you to come on and go 
to bed.” 

“I ain’t sleepy,” protested little Annie. 

“But then we must go,” said Joel. “I’m so 
much obliged to you for the candy, Mr. Bruce. 
Annie, when you get to be growed up like Aunt 
Milly, maybe Mr. Bruce will come to see you — 
maybe so. I don’t know, he might be married by 
that time — might be.” 

“I hope he will come,” said she, looking toward 
Bruce. 

“I will, I expect. Come and kiss me good-night 
now.” Bruce held out his arms to the baby. 

“Well; does young ladies do that way? I 
reckon Aunt Milly does.” 

“Of course she don’t,” said Joel, observing 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


123 


Aunt Milly narrowly ; “she’s growed up and 
knows better. Come on, Annie.” 

Camilla remained seated at the piano. She 
played one selection after another until she very 
nearly exhausted her limited stock. 

“That’s very pretty,” said Bruce, at length, 
drawing his chair near the piano; “but don’t tire 
yourself out this time. I’ll want to hear you 
again.” 

“If you want to hear me, perhaps you’d better 
listen while I’m in the notion.” 

“I’ll admit the force of the argument. For I’ve 
asked you to play a good many times, and you’ve 
always refused on the plea that you could not play. 
Of course I knew that you could, for I’ve heard 
you at other times.” 

“No, I can’t play. When I’m in the notion, I 
make a pretense at it.” 

“Why, you play fairly well; but you talk bet- 
ter.” 

“I talk better, do I ? I’m glad to hear it. Thank 
you. I knew before that I couldn’t play.” 

“But you can play — a little. And I should like 
to know what will put you in the notion.” He 
rose and rested his arm on the piano. 

“Really, I don’t play well enough to consider 
that.” She affected displeasure at his remark, 
when his frankness delighted her. 

“But I should like to know, anyhow.” 

“Anyhow ?” She knew that he would not modify 
what he had said. “Sometimes playing stimulates 
mental action and helps me to decide which of 
two ways to take.” 


124 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


“Come over here and tell me about it then/^ he 
said, catching her fingers, and leading her to the 
sofa in spite of her endeavors to release her hand. 

“Do you realize,” said he, as Camilla crowded 
herself into the corner of the sofa, “that you have 
never yet shown the least regard for a lover’s priv- 
ileges — ^you have never been half so good as little 
Annie gives you credit for being.” 

“Well, I’m ‘growed up and know better,’ ” she 
quoted Joel, laughing. 

“Now, seriously, I should like to know if my 
pleadings have no effect on you whatever?” 

“They certainly have an effect.” She moved to 
a chair near the sofa, thinking: “I can’t marry 
him. I just can’t.” 

“Well, I think I must be a very poor lover, or 
the people who write novels don’t tell it straight.” 

“You certainly don’t expect just every-day folks 
to do as they do in books. It would be inconsist- 
ent. Think of you actually fighting a duel, and 
perhaps two or three within a year, for the sake 
of a fair lady’s hand.” 

“But duels are not actually customary now, you 
know, among us more civilized Kentuckians. If 
it were necessary, though, I could fight.” 

“Could fight?” 

“I would fight people, fire, and water for the 
sake of one fair lady. You know I would.” Then 
his mind reverted to a recent time when he 
wanted to fight a man, and this act, he now con- 
sidered, would not have been fighting for Camilla, 
either. 

Camilla believed that Bruce spoke the truth. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


125 


She looked down at the broad, scarlet bow of rib- 
bon which flaunted its loops and streamers in 
place of the one-time chiffon bow. 

''Sometimes there is something worse than 
people, fire, or water to fight,’' she said. 

"What’s that?” 

"One’s own self.” She thought of saying that 
she loved him too much to bring him into an em- 
barrassing relationship. 

"I admit it,” Bruce said, thinking of the implied 
thoughtlessness of Camilla in his desire to revenge 
his wrong on her brother-in-law. "Do you know 
about it? If you don’t, I wish you to know, and 
then I shall feel easier. I was angry. I made 
threats, but I never carried them out, and I’m sorry 
that I ever made them. You shall never have an- 
other chance to forgive me for attention to my in- 
terests above yours.” 

"I don’t know what you are talking about. I 
haven’t heard of anything wrong that you have 
done.” 

"Well, I was as angry as could be. I threatened 
to prosecute him, but Uncle Dan took the matter 
into his hands, and you know the rest, I reckon.” 

"I shouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” 

"Camilla, you don’t mean that.” 

"It was enough to make you want to do it, any- 
how.” 

"You’ll see though if I don’t make amends to 
you in the future for my thoughtlessness of you 
in the past.” 

"And I must try to make amends to you for the 
behavior of other people. Bruce, you know I 


126 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


can’t think of bringing you into a closer relation- 
ship with him now. It would be too unpleasant 
for you. I can’t think of allowing you to sacrifice 
yourself in any such way.” She picked up her fan 
and began toying with it. 

Bruce regarded Camilla in silence for a few min- 
utes. Then he bent forward and took hold of the 
fan, and she promptly released it. 

‘What are you saying?” he asked. 

Camilla looked at the bow of scarlet ribbon in- 
stead of into the upturned face. She wound the 
end of one streamer over her forefinger, slipped 
her chair back, and said: 

‘T can not marry you now. I should always 
feel mean for having brought the embarrassment 
upon you.” 

“Having brought embarrassment upon me? 
Ha, ha, ha!” He looked down at the fan which 
he was opening and closing, and then he looked 
up again. “Which do you think would embarrass 
me the more — that, or the poorest life a fellow 
ever lived? Which? Can’t you answer me out 
of your own heart?” 

Camilla unwound the streamer from her finger, 
and wound around the other streamer. 

“I can’t do it, Bruce. I can’t let you marry me 
now,” she said. 

“Camilla, what is the use of talking that way? 
You know you wouldn’t wreck my life and your 
own, too, just for that. Besides, it’s all over, and 
will never occur again.” 

“But even this might be better than risk wreck- 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


127 


ing it in the future.” She resorted to her second 
argument in store. 

''Risk wrecking whose life in the future?” 

"Well, mine.” 

"You know I have promised to consider your 
interests before my own. It’ll be my pleasure to 
do it. Have you no confidence in my word?” 

"Well, you know I’ve always been a little afraid 
of marrying, anyhow. Now since I’ve seen more 
of women’s trials, I can’t consent to marry.” 

"You must have a very exalted opinion of me,” 
Bruce said. His anger was rising. 

"Now, Bruce, you know I don’t think you 
would ever do anything wrong like that, but I 
can’t marry you.” 

"A while ago it was my interest of which you 
were so mindful, and now it’s your own.” Bruce 
straightened up, and let the fan fall across his 
knee. "I don’t quite understand, I confess. Do 
you wish to break our engagement?” 

"I do.” She unwound the ribbon from her fin- 
ger, and rested her hand on the arm of the chair. 

"Is it on account of anything that I’ve done?” 

"Nothing whatever. I have only praise for 
you.” She spoke truly. 

"What is it then?” 

"I decline to be catechised any further. Isn’t 
it enough that I can not marry you now ?” 

"I don’t want you to marry me now, but I do 
want you to marry me this fall.” Bruce regained 
his good temper. "Let us talk about our bridal 
trip. How would you like to go North ? Wouldn’t 


128 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


you like to visit New York, Boston and Philadel- 
phia and the other principal places of interest?” 

Camilla smiled and said she thought it would be 
a delightful trip. 

''Well, we will go.” 

"How long will you stay?” 

"Whatever you say ; two, three, or four weeks.” 

Camilla’s eyes wandered to the table on which 
lay the photograph album and a box of stereo- 
scopic views, and she thought : "If he would only 
stay up there, perhaps — but then I can’t marry 
him. I don’t want to.” 

"While we are at Boston we’ll visit the several 
points of historical interest about there,” he ran 
on. "We will go out to Cambridge and see Har- 
vard, and we will be happier than if we had the 
combined knowledge of all the professors there, 
won’t we?” 

"Perhaps so, if I didn’t have to come back then, 
and live on a farm,” she thought; but for an 
answer she only looked at the floor. 

"We’ll be happy then. I’m happy now with 
you, sweetheart.” He reached over and folded 
her hand between both of his. 

"No, Bruce, consider yourself released from any 
engagement to marry me,” she said, withdrawing 
her hand. 

"Camilla, you have never loved me!” And the 
whole course of her actions flashed before him, 
convincing him of the truth of his accusation. 

"Why should you want to marry me, then?” 

"Why should you engage yourself to me, then? 
I thought that was proof of your love.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


129 


‘'And so you will proceed to hate me?” 

“I don’t promise what I shall do, but what I 
have done is to love you with my whole heart. 
Even in the light of this, I’m not ashamed of it, 
for I thought you were sincere.” He laid the fan 
back on her lap. 

“You don’t mind indicating the position to 
which I have descended in your estimation, if you 
did love me.” 

“It’s only candor,” he said in a voice of real 
anguish. 

“I’m sorry. I am sorry.” His sincerity touched 
her. 

“My case demands no pity. I have loved truly, 
and loved what I thought was a true woman.” 

“Don’t be too hard on me, Bruce. You don’t 
know it all, and I can’t tell you.” She thought of 
the influences that had almost forced her into an 
engagement with him. “If I could, I don’t know 
that it would make you think any better of me,” 
she said. “For I should have acted differently in 
spite of them,” she thought. 

“Why not tell me?” he said, rising, and stand- 
ing before her. 

“I can’t ; besides, it would do no good.” 

With his hands folded behind him, he looked 
at her long, thinking: “I wish I had kissed her 
once, anyhow, when I thought she was true. But 
now to kiss her when I know she never loved me, I 
will not!” And he grasped one hand with the 
other as if to hold himself from the act. 

“You want me to go?” he said, at length. 

9 


130 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


“I do.” 

He passed out into the night. 

She lingered in the chair where he had left her 
until his departing buggy-wheels sounded as a dis- 
tant echo. 

After going to her room, she flung herself in a 
large rocking-chair and gave herself up to con- 
flicting emotions. 

While her personal wishes were clearly defined 
in the course which she had just pursued, she 
wished that he had loved her less. She knew all 
along that he cared for her very much — as well as 
she could understand when she had never given 
more than a few passing thoughts to any par- 
ticular man. She thought that her other lovers 
had been more piqued than genuinely grieved at 
their dismissal. However, she never actually 
promised to marry any of these. And all, so far 
as she knew, had recovered, and she could but 
hope that Bruce would be restored in time. 

But his disappointment impressed her differ- 
ently from that of any of the others. There was a 
ring of seriousness and strength that she had 
never perceived in any of them. She felt a com- 
punction of conscience wholly new to her. She 
feared that his experience would leave a scar. Be- 
lieving that she had caused Bruce pain, at first she 
could not rejoice fully in her sensation of freedom. 
But she removed the large bow of scarlet ribbon 
from the bosom of her gown, and waved it, think- 
ing: '^My banner of independence brought it to 
me. I know if did.” She smiled at her foolish- 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


131 

ness, and the joy of being free again rose far above 
her sympathy for Bruce. 

She got up, went to the dressing-case, and 
stood her bow on the large pin-cushion. She 
spread the loops against the mirror and the 
streamers over the cushion. “Now stay in sight, 
for ril need all my store of what you stand for,” 
she thought; “because I have to tell mother yet. 
But Alvin's scrape helped me out wonderfully, 
didn't it? I fear even you, bow, could not have 
availed against mother without it. I ought to be 
very grateful to Alvin. Think of what might have 
been !” 

But upon remembering Bruce, she turned from 
the glass and said : “If I could only make amends 
to him in some way ! Perhaps the time will come 
when I can, but in the meanwhile I'll rejoice.” 
And she lifted the front of her skirts above her 
toes and whirled off through the room in a waltz. 

Jostling against the centre table, she stopped 
and moved it, saying, “Let nothing bar my prog- 
ress now, for I intend to dance to the tune of 
freedom.” 

And dance she did until she heard the clock in 
her mother's room beneath her strike, and she 
knew that it was time for her to be abed. 

But before undressing she drew up a chair to 
the table, sat down, and again examined the pic- 
tures of New York in the magazine. 

When the sunlight streamed through the open 
window the next morning, awakening her, she 
looked out on the world, experiencing a sense of 
relief for which she could not account. Then her 


132 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


eyes fell upon the table in its unusual place, and 
the happenings of the past evening recurred to 
her. 

By and by she went to the pantry to get a bis- 
cuit and a chicken wing for her breakfast, as the 
dishes had been cleared away. 

Joel bounded across the porch, calling, ''I beat 
you up this morning Aunt Milly.” 

And little Annie followed, saying, ‘^So did I.” 

The sight of the children reminded Camilla that 
she had their heads to comb in addition to her 
usual duties. She finished everything, and then • 
picked up a book. But realizing her inability to 
concentrate her mind that morning upon anything 
wholly impersonal, she soon exchanged the book 
for a piece of linen. The cloth was blocked out 
for a table-scarf. With the article in hand, she sat 
down upon the broad sill of the front door more 
to decide further upon the disposal of her freedom 
than to occupy herself with work. 

An hour later, Mrs. Morgan came in from the 
back yard, where she was having Jim build a house 
for her ducks. Finding Camilla rapidly remov- 
ing the threads from the cloth, she said in aston- 
ishment : 

“Why, you’re pullin’ out so many! I thought 
you just intended to hemstitch it, but you have a 
space there big enough for a pattern.” 

Camilla did not admit that she had not noticed 
what she was doing. She only thought that she 
could afford to work a pattern now. 

“You ought to have let the plain hemstitchin’ 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


133 


answer, specially as we’ll have so much sewin’ on 
hand before long. What did he say ’bout Alvin?” 

‘‘He said that was all over now.” 

“He did? Your father said he ’ud get all right 
about it. He’s a fine fellow anyhow, Bruce is.” 

Camilla was not sure that she had commenced 
right, but remembering the bow on her dressing- 
case, she continued : 

“But it makes a difference with me. Mother, 
do you suppose I can marry now, and incur un- 
happiness for all my future life?” 

“Why, Bruce is all right, child. You needn’t 
be afraid of that.” 

“Mother, you know I don’t like to live on a 
farm. I don’t want to marry. And I don’t love 
Bruce Turner.” 

“I don’t see why you don’t love him. He is the 
nicest young man I know.” 

“I know he is ; but I can’t marry him.” 

“Camilla Morgan! what do you mean? Has 
he got out o’ the notion?” 

“He hadn’t till I told him I had. I told him 
so last night.” 

“Now you didn’t!” 

“Yes’m, I did.” 


CHAPTER XII 


Joel and little Annie used the turkey-pens for 
playhouses during the wanderings of the fowls in 
the wheat-fields. Little Annie placed two or 
three blocks of wood in one pen for seats. When 
Joel came to visit, his hostess invited him to have 
a chair, pointing to one of the blocks, while she 
seated herself upon another. 

“How are you to-day, Mrs. Brown?” asked 
Joel, adjusting himself to the chair. 

“Very well, but I have got the pneumonias, I 
thinks,” Mrs. Brown answered, turning her head 
to one side. 

“That’s bad. Is all your little chilluns well?” 
And Joel smoothed the dress of his own rag-doll. 

“Yes’m ; but one of ’em, Daisy, has most got the 
consumptions.” The mother placed Daisy against 
a side of the pen. “Now set up straight, Hun,” 
she said. 

“Well, this is a right pleasant day to-day,” Joel 
said, endeavoring to sustain the conversation. 

“Yes’m; but it’s right warm. Did you leave 
the most of your babies at home, Mrs. Rice ?” 

“Yes’m. I just brought Clover ’long, she cried 
so. I must be goin’. I ’spect the others will 
want me. I told ’em to get dinner while I was 
away.” He rose to go. 

“Set longer, Mrs. Rice.” Little Annie imitated 
the pleadings of her mamma to callers. 

“I would like to, but I must go.” 

“Oh, stay longer, can’t you?” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


I3S 

“No, no, I must go, thank you; but, Mrs. 
Brown, haven’t you bought a new hat?” 

“Yes’m.” She hesitated a minute, and then 
said, “I’ll bring it in and let you see it.” 

“That’s so much trouble. Just let me go with 
you.” 

And Mrs. Rice followed Mrs. Brown to the back 
of the pen, where Mrs. Brown exhibited a hat 
made of oak leaves pinned together with tiny 
sticks. 

“Oh, ain’t it beautiful!” exclaimed Mrs. Rice. 
“Is there any more like it?” 

“Yes’m; no’m.” Then she whispered in confi- 
dence, “Joel, Aunt Milly will make you one. She 
made mine.” 

“I know it, Annie,” he whispered. “I’m just 
talkin’, I don’t want any.” In a louder tone, he 
said: “Are you goin’ to wear it Sunday, Mrs. 
Brown? It’s so beautiful. I wish I had one. 
Have you got any new dresses ?” 

“One. It’s a pink silk.” And she reached be- 
hind a rock and pulled out a calico apron which 
belonged to her grandmother. “It ain’t shore 
’nough,” she whispered. And louder, “It goes 
this way.” She spread the article over the front 
of her frock. 

“Is these the trimmin’s ?” He caught up a torn 
corner. 

“Ain’t it ’squisite? I must go now shore 
’nough. Come to see me, Mrs. Brown, and bring 
your chilluns. Good-by.” 

Turning to Daisy, Mrs. Brown said : 

“I think you better go to bed, Hun. Is you 


136 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


sick much? I hope not. I loves you so good.'' 
And she kissed the head of the rag infant. Then 
she let it fall to the ground while she pulled up 
grass and patted it into a bed against the side of 
the pen. “You ought to have been to bed sooner, 
I 'spects," she said, when she laid the doll on the 
bed; “but Mrs. Rice stayed so long. I was real 
glad when she left, not shore 'nough, but just 'tend 
like. Lay down, Hun. Your mamma is just 
goin’ out a minute; she'll be back d'rectly." 

And a feeble knock sounded on the foot-wide 
plank wall of the neighboring pen. 

“Come in," called Mrs. Rice. 

“I just thought I would come over and set a 
while with you." 

“Well, we is goin' to have a big dinner d'rectly. 
'Sense me a minute." He ran to the house, and 
came back, carrying his box of candy. He 
walked into the pen, put down the box on a bunch 
of grass, and said, “Come out to dinner, Mrs. 
Brown." 

“Yes'm." And little Annie sat down at one 
end of the box and helped herself liberally. 

Joel looked on a few minutes, and then said: 

“Mrs. Brown, — ^Annie, — that ain't the way com- 
pany does. They just takes a little bit." 

“But I wanted it," protested she. 

“Well, are you goin' to be company, or you just 
goin' to be Annie ?" 

“Oh, I'm company." 

“Well, then, when I pass it to you and ask you 
to have some more, you must just look at it, and 
say, ‘No, I thank you.' " 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


137 


Little Annie pulled up a handful of grass with- 
out answering. 

‘‘Mrs. Brown, do have some more,’’ Mrs. Rice 
said, at length: “You haven’t eat any hardly.” 

“I believe I’ll be Annie,” Mrs. Brown said, help- 
ing herself with both hands. 

“I’m not a-goin' to play!” cried Joel. He picked 
up his box and carried it to the house. As he 
passed along the back porch, he overheard his 
grandmother say : 

“Well, I never! To have caught him, and then 
turned him a-loose. She’ll fish a long time before 
another like him will bite. I don’t know what she 
means, myself.” 

“Who’s been fishin’, gran’ma?” asked Joel, halt- 
ing at the table. 

“Your Aunt Milly, that’s who!” And she 
jerked her head back and brought down her chin, 
as she stirred the sugar into the pudding. 

“She has ! Was it a very big fish that got away 
from her?” inquired Joel, much interested. 

“It was the biggest one she’ll ever ketch.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Oh, never mind. You go ’long.” 

“I want to put my box somewhere. Somewhere 
that Annie can’t find it.” 

“What’ve you got in it?” 

“Some candy Mr. Bruce give me last night. 
Annie will eat it all up if I don’t hide it.” 

“Let me see.” 

Joel opened the box and exhibited the contents. 

“Well, I never ! Did he bring it to you?” 

“Yes’m, he did; and he told me to do just what 


138 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


1 wanted to with it. You take a piece, but I want 
to save some of it for papa.’' 

‘'For your papa!” Her head went back, her 
chin came down, and her black eyes snapped as 
if she thought the world was going very wrong 
indeed. “Well, take it up-stairs.” 

“Oh, I know a place.” And he scampered to 
the parlor and placed his box on the floor behind 
the lace curtains at the back window. Then he 
took up the rug which lay in front of the sofa and 
put it across the curtains. 

“What are you doin’ in there ?” called Camilla. 

“I’ll tell you if you won’t tell Annie,” Joel said, 
as he closed the door upon his candy. Then he 
went to the front door where Camilla still sat 
drawing threads from the linen square. Another 
thought, however, again presented itself very for- 
cibly, and instead of explaining the object of his 
errand in the parlor, he said: 

“Aunt Milly, next time you go fishin’ let me go 
with you, won’t you?” 

“Why, I haven’t been fishin’, Joel, not lately.” 

“Gran’ma said you had. She said you caught a 
big fish, and then turned him a-loose. On pur- 
pose, I reckon she must have thought. What 
made you do it, Aunt Milly?” 

“I couldn’t hold it, perhaps,” said Camilla, 
laughing. “Did grandma- seem to think I ought 
to have held it anyhow?” 

“She looked like it. I expect gran’ma could 
hold a fish. Could we get back before dinner if 
we was to go to-day?” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


139 


‘‘You could carry your dinner with you, I 
reckon.’’ 

“But papa might come while we was away.” 

“Why, did he say he would come for you to- 
day ?” 

“He didn’t say so, but I believe he will.” 

“You are not homesick, are you?” 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

“You don’t want to see your mamma, I reck- 
on?” 

“No, not much. There comes Annie.” Then 
he whispered: “Don’t tell her I’ve been in the 
parlor. I hid my candy in there.” 

“What have you been doing with Miss Daisy?” 
asked Camilla, as little Annie seated herself upon 
the top step. “Her face is so sticky.” 

“I been just tryin’ to give her some candy. I 
thought it might make her get better. Just ’tend 
like, you know. Aunt Milly.” 

“Is she very sick?” 

“No’m, not much; she was. She cried to come 
with me.” 

“Do you always let her do as she wants to when 
she cries?” 

“ Yes’m ; if she cries loud ’nough.” 

“You do?” And Camilla smiled at this repeti- 
tion of her sister’s methods. 

“She ought to have just slapped her and shook 
her good when she hollered so loud, oughtn’t 
she?” Joel said. 

“I don’t know much about what ought to be 
done with children.” Camilla thought that it was 


140 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


easier for her not to interfere with her sister’s 
ways. 

“No,” said little Annie, “I loves my Daisy too 
much for that.” And she pressed her own sticky 
face against the sticky face of the doll. 

“Aunt Milly, what do you want to make holes in 
that goods for?” asked Joel. “I don’t think that 
looks pretty.” 

“But I’m going to fill it up again, partially ; then 
it will look pretty.” 

“What’s the use of that? Just makin’ holes in 
it, and then sewin’ ’em up again. I think it’s a 
mushy way to do.” 

“That’s because you are a boy and don’t know 
about such things. Annie, what do you think 
about it?” 

“It’s all right, I reckons, if it makes it look 
pretty.” 

“There ! Annie reasons like a woman.” 

“Well, I’m glad I’m not. I would rather make 
mud pies when I get to be a man than do that. 
Come on, Annie, let’s go make some now.” Joel 
got up and leaped into the yard. “Aunt Milly, you 
come too,” he said; “it’s more fun.” 

“All right.” Camilla was tired of her present 
employment. She folded the scarf, laid it on the 
table in the hall, and then followed the children to 
the bare spot at one side of the house. 

She helped them loosen the soil, carry water, 
and provide baking boards. When she sat down 
with them, she manifested as much interest in the 
play as did the children. 

Only small, flat biscuits appeared upon the 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


141 

board for a while. At length, however, Camilla 
endeavored to express her thoughts in her work. 
She made a bell, but upon attempting to put a 
crack in one side, it fell in a heap. She wondered 
why a liberty-bell should have a crack in the side 
anyhow, but she knew that the bell among the 
stereoscopic views in the parlor had a crack in it. 
She made a second, but it too proved unsatisfac- 
tory. “I could never be an artist,” she thought, 
'‘but I don’t want to be. I just want to be free. 
I wish I could put the clapper and crack in this bell 
and have it complete so it would do justice to my 
sensation of liberty.” 

"Aunt Milly has made a tent,” said Joel; "one 
like the soldiers live in.” 

"A tent?” said she, and she thought, "Well, if 
I have failed to get my liberty then I’ll be a soldier 
in a tent and fight for it yet.” 

"It’s the dinner-bell, I think,” said little Annie. 

"Oh, is it?” said Joel. "I hope it ain’t, ’cause 
it will make me hungry.” 

"Well, you can eat this biscuit,” said little 
Annie, offering a cake of mud, and laughing. 

"There is the sure-enough dinner-bell,” said 
Camilla ; "and you need not be hungry long. Let 
us quit now.” 

"Play with us again after dinner, please ?” 
begged little Annie. 

"You won’t want to make pies and cakes just 
after dinner, will you? I think I would rather 
take a nap.” 

"But I don’t want to go to sleep,” protested 
little Annie. 


142 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


'1 don’t have to, for Fm too big,” spoke the 
man of six. 

'Tlease, Aunt Milly, I don’t want to,” pleaded 
little Annie. 

“I never said you must, child. I said that I 
was going to. I’m not going to make you if you 
don’t want to.” And she thought, ^‘It’s too much 
trouble.” 

‘‘Aunt Milly is a nice Aunt Milly,” said little 
Annie. “I likes her, don’t you ?” Camilla and the 
children were going toward the house. 

“She’s nice to us when it’s not too much trou- 
ble to her.” 

This piece of information concerning herself 
startled Camilla somewhat, and therefore she 
made no reply. 

“You have been nice this morning. Aunt Milly,” 
said Joel, endeavoring to make amends for his re- 
mark. 

Mr. Morgan and his man-servant came in 
answer to the bell. They stood their scythes by 
the yard gate, for they expected to return to the 
field after dinner to continue cutting weeds. 

While Mr. Morgan was washing his face and 
hands, Mrs. Morgan called to him to come into 
the pantry. 

“You want me to open the other barrel of 
sugar ?” he asked upon entering. 

“Yes,” she said; “but it ain’t that.” Her voice 
sounded sepulchral, coming as it did from the 
utmost depths of the sugar barrel. 

“I hope it’s nothing as bad as a body might 
think from your talk,” he said, jocosely. Then he 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


143 


feared somewhat that there might be a new real 
trouble. 

“It’s about Camilla,” Mrs. Morgan said, as her 
head came out of the barrel. 

Mr. Morgan felt a sense of relief. 

“She’s gone an’ broke her engagement with 
Bruce Turner. She broke it last night.” 

“Why, how come ? Did she see he was wantin’ 
to break off?” 

“Hzm want to break off? No! he’d a married 
her quick enough. It was her.” And Mrs. 
Morgan’s head went back and her chin came down 
apparently at the sugar-dish which she held in her 
hands. “It was not him a-tallf* 

“What’s the matter, then, with her?” Mr. 
Morgan asked, placing his hand on a shelf. 

“She’s got it into her head somehow or other 
that she don’t want to marry. She don’t love him 
or some such nonsense. I think she’s doin’ a 
mighty bad thing myself, and I told her so. C. D., 
you talk to her and — make her do what she ought 
to.” 

“If she’s already broke the engagement, I don’t 
see what good my talkin’ would do.” 

“Maybe she could make it up with him.” 

“But if she don’t love him — I don’t think you 
wanted to marry the other fellow you didn’t love, 
did you ? And Camilla is pretty much like her ma 
in some things.” 

“C. D. Morgan !” And her head went back, and 
her chin came down again at the sugar-dish. 
“That was different. My mother didn’t want me 
to marry you, you know she didn’t.” 


144 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Mr. Morgan laughed in spite of the difference 
in the situations, and said: 

‘‘It ain’t no use as I can see. But if she wants 
to marry at all, I expect she’d a better married 
him ; that is, if she could love him.” 

“If she could love him ! Why couldn’t she 
learn to love him? C. D., talkin’ ’bout Camilla 
bein’ like me, she’s just like you. I don’t see why 
anybody as sensible as you are in most things 
should show so little reason ’bout this. After she’s 
married to him for a while, you know it will be 
the same as if she’d a loved him at first.” And 
she thought of the other man who crossed her 
path, and of his wife who now lived in town and 
escaped the drudgery incident to the life of a 
farmer’s wife. 

“Now, Jenny, you don’t think that, do you?” 
He laid his hands on her shoulders, and looked 
down into her' face. “I don’t believe you actually 
do.” And his mind wandered to the days when he 
knew she did not — those days when her head went 
back and her chin came down as only the accom- 
paniment of some saucy remark that charmed him. 
He never dreamed then that the actions would 
become imperative gestures, expressive of a 
domineering nature. Yet his heart had clung to her 
during the change, and he believed that her heart 
remained faithful to him. He thought that young 
people should love one another when they set out 
together, and so he said : 

“I don’t want to see Camilla marry anybody un- 
less she loves him. If she would be content to 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


US 

live ’long here with us always, I ’ud be glad ’nough 
of it.” 

“Well, C. D., I see there ain’t no reasonin’ with 
you now. Dinner is waitin’. I think you ought 
to talk to Camilla afterwards though, and make 
her do the right way.” 

She went out and waited for him to follow so 
that she could lock the pantry door. 

Date in the afternoon the sound of buggy- 
wheels aroused Camilla from her reverie. She sat 
up in the hammock which was swung between two 
poplar trees in the lower part of the front yard. 
She laid down her book in which she had not un- 
derstood two consecutive lines that she had read, 
and went to the stile to meet Alvin Crane. She 
was not glad to see Alvin; she went only out of 
the gratitude that she considered was due him for 
assisting her in regaining her freedom. When 
she reached the stile, she smiled from joy of her 
experience. 

The smile acted upon Alvin as if it beamed for 
the especial purpose of giving him a cordial greet- 
ing. It warmed Alvin’s chilled heart. It warmed 
his heart in a degree toward all the world, and to- 
ward Camilla in particular. He wished that his 
wife possessed more of the sunny, forgiving na- 
ture of her sister. 

“I have been lookin’ for you,” said Joel, as he 
and little Annie met their father in the walk. 

“Have you been lookin’ for papa ?” Alvin asked 
of the baby as he lifted her in his arms. 

10 


146 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Oh, Fm so g-lad to see you! You dear, g-ood 
papa.” Little Annie hugged her father, and laid 
her face against his. 

Alvin blushed that the innocent lips should 
apply such terms to him, and that another should 
hear them applied; but he pressed the little one 
closer to his bosom. 

Camilla, out of genuine compassion for Alvin 
this time, walked on in front of him and the chil- 
dren. She went through the hall. When she re- 
turned she brought a dipper of water and offered 
it to Alvin. Her mother had iust finished read- 
ing a note which she handed to Camilla. It was an 
invitation to dine with Mrs. Casey. “I reckon we’d 
better go,” Camilla remarked. “Mrs. Casey always 
has things in style.” 

When Alvin and the children were on their way 
home, Joel removed the lid from his box of candy, 
and said : 

“Papa, take all you want.” 

“Candy? where’d you get it?” 

“Mr. Bruce brought it to me last night. Wasn’t 
he good? When I get to be a man, I ’ud rather 
be like him than anybody else, ’cept you. I ’ud 
rather be like you the most. I would like to be a 
man takin’ candy round to all the little chillun, 
and eatin’ as much of it as I wanted myse’f.” 

“You would like to be Santa Claus, then, I 
reckons,” said little Annie. 

“He has to give to most too many. I’m afraid 
he don’t get a chance to eat any himself. Papa, 
take some. I saved it for you.” He leaned over 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


147 


little Annie and whispered that he had hidden the 
box in the parlor behind the curtains. 

“Oh, yes! I heard,’’ said little Annie. “When 
I get some candy, I’ll hide it too. Let me tell 
you, papa.” She turned her face toward him and 
whispered the place. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes!” she 
said in defiant exultation. 

“Papa, I want you to have some,” insisted Joel. 

And Alvin engaged in a battle between his wish 
not to partake of Bruce Turner’s candy and his 
desire to please Joel by sharing it with him. So 
he said : 

“Put it up. “I’ll see about it after a while.” He 
did not think of the severity of the request. 

Joel was disappointed, but he was cheerful; he 
replaced the lid, saying : 

“I knew I was goin’ to get it.” 

“Knew you were goin’ to get it?” asked Alvin. 
“How did you know it?” 

Joel told of Bruce’s offering him the fifty cents, 
and then said: 

“I thought he might buy me some candy with 
it though, so I asked God please to make him do 
it.” 

Little Annie laughed, but Alvin turned a seri- 
ous face upon his boy. 

“I knew you was cornin’ to-day, too,” said Joel. 

“How so, son?” . 

“ ’Cause I knew you couldn’t help yourself no 
more’n Mr. Bruce could.” Then he thought that 
his father might object to being forced to obey, 
and so he added, “I wanted to eat some of my 
candy, and I didn’t want to take any more of it 


148 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


till you'd had some, so — I — asked God to send 
you." 

“Well, open your box. I’ll take some." And 
Alvin picked out several pieces. “That’s enough 
now." 

He put a chocolate-drop between his teeth. 
Then he struck the horse with the line, and said, 
“Go ’long!" 


CHAPTl^R XIII 


It was late in August. 

The day that Mrs. Casey appointed for her din- 
ing dawned auspiciously. 

She and her daughter flitted from place to place, 
endeavoring to discharge the many remaining 
duties before the guests should begin to arrive. 

But while they were setting the long table, Mrs. 
Casey said to Mira : 

^T should not have invited them to-day, but 
knowing that Mrs. Crane feels so bad about her 
recent trouble, I thought maybe it would help her 
to ask her out among people. Perhaps help her 
mother and sister too.’’ 

“You are always so thoughtful of others, 
mamma,” said Mira, who had now turned sixteen, 
and had awakened to an appreciation of her 
mother as a woman. 

“Well, I’ve known trouble, and so I can sympa- 
thize with others who experience it.” 

“Trouble? What trouble, mamma?” Then she 
thought of her father’s death, and she was pro- 
voked with herself for having asked the question. 

He had died five years before — ^when Sara was 
a babe and Cora was only two years old. But time 
had robbed her own memory of the poignant sting, 
and only an after-thought, one that belonged to 
the dawn of the woman-nature, prompted her to 
say: 

“It must have been hard for you, mamma.” 
“What?” 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


150 

“Papa’s death, and then the sole care of us 
children.” 

“It was.” And the mother experienced aston- 
ishment mingled with both alarm and pleasure 
that Mira should view the situation from the po- 
sition of a woman and not from that of the child 
which she was but a short while ago. She 
hastened to confide to the woman : “But that was 
not all.” 

“What else, mamma?” Mira asked, as she fin- 
ished putting the pickles on the table. 

“I have thought I would tell you when you were 
older,” Mrs. Casey replied, folding a napkin and 
laying it in place. Then she realized that the time 
which she had looked forward to had come — the 
time when Mira should understand as a woman. 
She glanced across the table at her child, and felt 
that she had found a friend, a companion, and a 
vacancy in her life seemed suddenly to be filled. 
Then she yielded to her desire to open her sore 
heart to be soothed by sweet sympathy. 

“Mira,” Mrs. Casey said, going around to the 
other side of the table, “it was before we came 
here, your father killed a man.” She knew that 
Mira shrank from her as if she had dealt her a 
blow. Then, for the first time, she thought of 
what the act might mean to the daughter, and 
said: “He did it in self-defense though; but oh, 
it was so horrible! So horrible to him to have 
done it at all. It’s a long story. I will tell you 
about it some other time. 

“The man’s grandfather,” she ran on, “quar- 
reled with husband’s grandfather ; the others took 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 151 

it up, and there never was any more peace be- 
tween the two factions. I was always uneasy, for 
your father was as bitter against them as they 
were against his side. I begged and begged him 
to keep hands off, but he felt honor bound to 
those of his name. The killing of the man, though, 
was forced upon him. He was cleared at the trial, 
but he never was the same afterwards. He 
brooded over it so, Tm sure it hastened his death. 
He used to walk the floor night after night, say- 
ing he could not sleep, that every time he closed 
his eyes the man would appear before him. How 
I suffered to see him that way! How terrible it 
all was!” 

Mrs. Casey saw that the color had left Mira’s 
cheeks and lips, and that her clasped hands shook 
as if she was chilled by cold. 

It was the mother then who gave sympathy. 
For the intelligence fell upon the young ears like 
a thunderbolt, and the inmost recesses of the heart 
felt the shock. 

‘T, the daughter of a murderer !” the girl cried. 

‘‘Oh, don’t think of it that way.” 

The mother’s grief waxed greater that the re- 
cital of her own sorrows should have inflicted per- 
sonal suffering upon her child. Cruel, indeed, 
seemed her disappointment. 

But the unfinished duties waited, and Mrs. 
Casey realized that she must hurry. She knew 
that she had partly unfitted both herself and Mira 
for the day’s requirements by unburdening her 
heart at this time. 

But once more at- her work, her distress became 


152 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


overshadowed; not so with Mira. While the girl 
moved about in compliance with her mother’s re- 
quests, the sorrow was too new to her to have be- 
come a part of herself. 

In the meantime, a conversation relating to 
the dining was held in the country not far away. 

Mrs. Morgan and Helen had been asked to be 
among Mrs. Casey’s guests that day. 

The inclusion of Mrs. Morgan in the invitation 
was only thoughtfulness on the part of Mrs. 
Casey. And Mrs. Morgan realized that the invi- 
tation was given without the remotest idea that 
she would accept it, or that she could accept it, 
because her physical condition was well known 
wherever she was acquainted. 

For a while after the fire, people invited Helen, 
and some remembered Mrs. Morgan with a 
bundle of cake on the day following a dining. But, 
at length, the invitations quit coming, inasmuch 
as Helen seldom went, and Mrs. Morgan’s house- 
hold necessarily ceased to entertain. Hence, the 
appreciation bestowed upon this remembrance. 

After reading the note, Mrs. Morgan placed it 
in her work-basket. Afterwards, when unob- 
served, she took it out several times, and reread 
it as a child who cherished the invitation to a first 
party would have done ; and yet with a vast differ- 
ence. Instead of regarding the invitation as an 
entrance upon pleasures, Mrs. Morgan read in it 
a farewell to all social enjoyment. She thought 
that she would never appear again at a place of 
entertainment, or at any other place outside of 
her own home. So she kept the invitation and 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


153 


thought on it somewhat as she would have 
thought on a delayed funeral notice. This morn- 
ing she sat in her chair by the open window with 
the note in her hand when Helen entered the 
room. 

“Mother,” Helen said, “I hate to leave you to- 
day. I wish I had declined going.” 

“No, no, my child, go ’long. You’ll never be 
young again.” The mother suppressed a sigh. 

“I hate to leave you, though.” 

“Your father’s dinner’s on the table, is it?” 

“Everything is on the table where he can find 
it for himself and for you, too.” 

“Your father will be about the house to-day, so 
you can go and have a good time.” 

Helen went to her room. 

As she coiled her wavy auburn hair about the 
back of her head, she observed her efforts in the 
mirror, thinking: “A short time ago I should 
have considered it scarcely worth while to be par- 
ticular about my appearance. For whether or not 
I succeeded in looking well, I knew that my po- 
sition among people was fixed. They would con- 
sider me poor but respectable, and the crowd 
would pass me without notice. Then I felt the 
lack of the attention which once they lavished 
upon me when they looked on me as rich and 
proud. But now I’m glad I’ve had both expe- 
riences. The lesson was a hard one.” She turned 
her head about, consulting the mirror upon the 
different views. “I believe, though, it was well 
worth the learning.” 

She put on a simple white lawn dress. She tied 


154 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


a blue ribbon about her neck and another about 
her waist after the prevailing style. Yet on ac- 
count of the individuality expressed in the fash- 
ioning of the bows, they looked unlike those of 
other girls. A delicate gold pin held her neck 
ribbon in place, seeming as if it was put there 
from necessity and not from desire of ornament. 

“So I will look the best I can to-day,” she 
thought, as she finished her toilet, “in honor of 
my broader nature. I’ll act the part of the poor 
but respectable girl, in accordance with the pre- 
viously settled convictions of others.” And a 
smile lighted up her face, which of late had devel- 
oped a new sweetness. 

“You look so well,” said Mrs. Morgan, when 
Helen bade her mother good-by. 

After Helen left, Mrs. Morgan lay back in her 
chair, thinking, “While there is a difference, — it 
must be the color of her hair that makes it,^but 
no one who knew me when I was her age can look 
at her and not think of me.” Then she put the 
invitation back into the basket. Her thoughts 
followed Helen to the dining, and in a measure the 
mother spent life again through her daughter. 

When Captain Morgan came in he stopped in 
the doorway. For he wished to bask in the sun- 
shine of his wife’s face, and he feared his going 
farther might bring back her usual weary expres- 
sion. 

“You may come in,” she said, looking toward 
him, still smiling. 

“Just a minute,” he said, still fearing, and wish- 
ing to carry the impression away with him. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS IS5 

‘‘When you go out just take this with you and 
drop it in the woodbox in the kitchen,” she said, 
affecting carelessness. She reached over and 
picked up the invitation. “I'm through with it,” 
she remarked. 

About eleven o’clock, Mira looked out of the 
window. Then she hastened to her mother, and 
said, “I see them coming; they’re almost here.” 

“They are! Well, I’m not ready for them.” 
And Mrs. Casey thought, “This is what I got by 
stoppin’ to talk this mornin’.” She said: “You 
will have to meet them. Here, let me help you.” 
She assisted with the tie, and stuck a pin in Mira’s 
belt to hide the band of her dress-skirt. 

Mira went to the stile. 

Mrs. Casey straightened her own neck-ribbon, 
and brushed her hair. 

On her way to the front door she looked into 
the parlor to see if everything was in order. No- 
ticing that a figure on the piano did not present 
its prettiest side to the front, she stepped in and 
turned it. Then she went to a small table which 
stood across one corner of the room, and drew a 
rose, the queen among the roses, higher than its 
associates in the cut-glass bowl. 

There was talking outside. 

When Mrs. Casey appeared at the front door, 
an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. But 
she said that she was delighted to see each of her 
guests. 

Mira remained at the stile while Mrs. Cliff Mor- 
gan and Camilla got out of their buggy. 

Several ladies who resided in the village arrived 


156 AMONG THE MEADOWS 

on foot. ‘^Oh, so many of us at once/’ spoke one, 
pleasantly. 

They passed through the gate and went up the 
walk. 

Camilla followed, noting that each dress-skirt 
hung demurely straight. ‘Tt’s because their 
under-skirts are not silk,” she explained to herself, 
“and not one of them has the independence to hold 
up her dress unless she can show a silk petticoat.” 

And the two ladies behind Camilla saw that she 
wore a white cotton under-skirt whose trimming 
afforded no excuse for her lifting her dress. But 
the ladies did not know that Camilla thought the 
bow of scarlet ribbon on her bosom waved its 
streamers in greeting of comradeship. 

When the guests had laid aside their hats in the 
sitting-room, they repaired to the parlor. The 
greater number of the women had carried a little 
needle-work with them, and the boldest took it 
with them at once into the parlor. Others left 
theirs partly concealed under their hats, each wait- 
ing for some one else to produce hers first. 

The work was not brought to parade industry. 
Industrious, however, the majority were. But 
there was no way to determine who was most in- 
dustrious by the amount of work accomplished dur- 
ing the day. For some who did the most work at 
home scarcely more than toyed with it there ; 
while others plied themselves as if to avoid losing 
any more time than was necessary. 

This employment sometimes served as a means 
for reaching the undercurrent of the life. When 
Mrs. Coleman leaned over and examined the 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


^S7 


stitching on Mrs. Asbury's crazy quilt square, 
Mrs. Asbury felt free of restraint in the presence 
of strangers. For Lady Charming remarked that 
the quilt was very much like the one which be- 
longed to her friend. Lady Charming said that 
every one considered her friend’s quilt a beauty, 
but she herself liked Mrs. Asbury’s better. She 
preferred it because of the brier-stitch throughout, 
and because of the one color thread. She said 
that light colors would fade, while orange silk 
would remain steadfast. 

It was as Lady Charming that Helen thought 
of this delightful person. She had come from the 
city to spend a few weeks among relatives. 

Under Lady Charming’s tactful geniality, Mrs. 
Coleman, too, came quite out of her shell of re- 
serve, and spoke glibly; that is, glibly for her. 
For she was accustomed to consult her husband’s 
wishes concerning every detail of her actions. 
Her husband decided upon the dress-maker. He 
selected the hats for the childien, unbecoming, 
expensive articles which should last three seasons 
at least because of the price that he paid for them. 
He also determined the position of the furniture. 
In many of these lines, Mrs. Coleman could have 
done better if Mr. Coleman had kept within his 
own province, or she had risen perforce and defied 
his powers. But now she was like a tree which 
grew on the bank of Meadowville Creek. The 
tree remained small because its neighbors sapped 
the nutriment that was necessary for its growth 
and crowded the requisite space for its spreading. 
Mr. Coleman still clung to his rightful part in the 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


IS8 

management of affairs, thus shutting off his wife’s 
development from either source. Mrs. Coleman, 
now a woman in middle life, measured only to the 
size of a sapling. On this occasion she expressed 
views as nearly her own as one could hope ever 
to obtain. They were these: 

“It don’t pay, this quilt piecin’. When you are 
through, it’s never as pretty as a white counter- 
pane. Nothin’ is.” 

“Oh, the way I do it, is to work on it when I 
have nothin’ else to do,” said Mrs. Asbury. She 
was never known to waste her time on even read- 
ing a book. “I could not set down and work at 
it reg’lar.” 

Well, I can’t do it,” joined in Mrs. Nealy. Her 
large, crooked nose seemed at variance with her 
lips. “It makes me feel rather crazy myself to try 
to put together so many different shapes.” And 
she unfolded her starched linen handkerchief, 
caught it by the centre, and held it in her hand. 

“I thought I would get my work too,” said 
Elsie Gorman, returning from the sitting-room 
with a bundle in her hand. 

“What are you doing?” asked a young matron, 
looking up from her button-holes on her baby’s 
first short dress. 

“It’s a fascinator.” Elsie seated herself near a 
window. 

“Is it?” said Miss Rose Fleming. “I thought 
maybe it was somethine new. How long have you 
been working on that, Elsie ?” 

“Why, let me see?” There was a twinkle in 
Elsie’s eye. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


159 


And Helen noted that the short, upturned nose 
sometimes had its way. 

^‘Wasn’t it winter before last when you com- 
menced it?” continued Miss Rose. don’t be- 
lieve you work very hard.” 

‘‘Well, you see, it’s my visiting-work; and it 
bears a record of my invitations out.” 

“That’s it, is it?” Miss Rose laughed, and then 
confined herself to her overcasting. 

“You did not bring your work to-day, Miss 
Helen,” said Mrs. Casey. 

And the lady with the overcasting thought, “I 
reckon she don’t get much time for fancy-work, 
and she can’t bring the other sort, or she’s 
ashamed to bring it.” 

Helen, in the character of the poor but respect- 
able girl, modestly replied, “I didn’t bring any.” 

“How is your mother?” asked Mrs. Bradley, 
who relied sufficiently upon her conversational 
powers to risk them unaided by needle-work. 

“I see no material change in her condition,” 
Helen answered ; “some days she feels a little bet- 
ter, and then on others she is not so well.” 

“So bad!” said two or three. 

Then Lady Philosopher, as Helen afterwards 
thought of her, turned to her neighbor, and re- 
marked : 

“It’s hard on a man.” Seeing that the person 
to whom she spoke failed to comprehend, she 
added, “On the lady’s husband, I mean.” 

“I think it’s hard on the woman,” said Mrs. 
Grose, rather more snappishly than the dulcet 
tones of Lady Philosopher seemed to require. 


i6o AMONG THB MEADOWS 

“Oh, yes, but then her husband must suffer a 
great deal on account of it. Of course a woman 
who is a sufferer can hardly be to her family what 
she would be in health, I have always thought.” 

Mrs. Grose was evidently the wrong person to 
sympathize with the view. Besides being a 
woman of no breadth of mental vision, she was sis- 
ter to an invalid, and saw the situation through, 
perhaps, a distorted medium. When she dropped 
her hands on her lap, still holding her knitting- 
needles between her fingers, and looked at Lady 
Philosopher over the rim of her spectacles, her 
remark possessed at least the apology of honesty. 

“Well, if it kin hurt the man any worse than 
the woman what’s doin’ the hurtin’, I think it 
ought not to. It’s only a limpish sort of a man 
that it does, I ’low.” 

Helen reflected that it was only a limp person, 
man or woman, who would suffer and not extract 
sweetness from the bitter. She considered that 
she had been limp herself, and therefore knew. 

“Do you find it very warm in Philadelphia in 
the summer?” asked Mrs. Hedrick of a fashion- 
ably gowned little woman. 

“We don’t stay there in the summer, you 
know.” Mrs. Lewis sat apart from the crowd, 
assuming more the aspect of an observer than 
that of a participant. “We go to our country- 
place, that is, when we don’t go to the mountains or 
to the shore.” 

And the questioner gaped, expressive of her 
surprise that mingled with awakening memories. 
For in the elegant lady there was left little appar- 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


i6i 


ent trace of the Polly Atchison of former years. 
And Mrs. Hedrick thought of Polly when she 
went to meeting with her father and mother in a 
single-seated buggy and wore a certain brown 
cloak. When the child first appeared in the wrap, 
it was large enough to admit of a small pillow in 
the back and another in the front. But by and by 
the back and the front filled out, and the edge of 
the cloak came to strike its wearer above the hem 
of her dress. It was this Polly that Mrs. Hedrick 
next addressed: 

‘‘I reckon you don^t like their ways up there 
much, do you? It’s sorter a bore, so much movin’ 
about, ain’t it?” She showed her ignorance of the 
Polly that she thought she knew. 

“Well, one can get used to it.” Mrs. Lewis de- 
cided that she would not commit herself further. 

“It’s so different, though, from the way you 
was raised. It don’t seem like you could get used 
to it very easy.” 

If this remark had come from a member of the 
society to which Mrs. Lewis was now accustomed, 
she would have passed judgment on the woman’s 
audacity. But, instead, she replied to the spirit 
of the speaker as well as to the words : 

“It is different from what I was used to in my 
earlier days, but many aspects of my life there I 
like very much.” 

She thought then of her first visit to Philadel- 
phia, and of the days previous to that visit. As 
Mrs. Lewis was thus engaged, the children of the 


II 


i 62 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


company came trooping to the house with a man 
amongst them. 

'‘I heerd you was a-goin’ to have a big dinner 
to-day/’ spoke no other than Uncle Dan to the 
hostess, who went to welcome him. ‘^So I thought 
I would jes’ drop in.” 

“Glad to see you,” said Mrs. Casey. 

When Uncle Dan entered the parlor, Mrs. 
Casey introduced him to the strangers. And he 
crossed the room, and shook hands with Mrs. 
Lewis, saying, “How air you?” 

“I wish some of the other gentlemen had come,” 
declared Mrs. Casey. “Couldn’t some of you la- 
dies prevail upon your husbands to come along?” 

“Well, I never had no lady prevail upon me,” 
said Uncle Dan. “So I jes’ had to git encourage- 
ment the best way I could. Sometimes, though, 
when a feller goes lone hand he gits out o’ retch 
of the other fellers.” 

“These ladies may not consider that very gal- 
lant,” said Mrs. Casey. 

“Oh ! they understand how I mean it, I reckon. 
Fer they know that I’m the only man what goes 
to all the big dinners, an’ gits to see ever’ one of 
’em at onct.” 

“Why didn’t Mr. Coleman come?” asked Mrs. 
Casey of the lady bearing his name. 

“Oh, he couldn’t to-day.” 

Then, out of respect for form, and not because 
the husband of any lady present was expected, the 
query, with some variation, was made round the 
circle. Sometimes the answer was, “Mr. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 163 

is very busy to-day’’; and sometimes simply, “I 
never asked him.” 

After making these polite inquiries, Mrs. Casey 
went to the dining-room, thinking, “Uncle Dan 
would have missed his meal this time if my stop- 
ping to talk this morning hadn’t made it late.” 

Soon she returned and announced dinner. The 
company filed out to the dining-room. 

Uncle Dan was somewhat embarrassed at first 
when he found himself seated between two 
strangers. Lady Charming and Lady Useful. He 
glanced at Helen, who sat opposite, and deter- 
mined to extricate himself from his difficulty if it 
should become too severe, by addressing himself 
to her. 

But before he fully decided upon a proper sub- 
ject to introduce. Lady Charming began talking, 
and he soon forgot that it was she of whom he 
stood in greater dread. He regarded her as 
pretty, and yet beauty did not seem to be her 
chief charm; intellectual, and yet intellectuality 
did not seem to be her most prominent attribute ; 
good — yes, he was sure that she was good. In 
addition to these qualities, he found that her 
knowledge was tempered with the experiences 
which usually belong to people of seventy-five, 
while she did not look to be over twenty-five. 
Wondering what the age of such a woman could 
be, he pronounced her a miracle. 

Helen learned that Lady Charming had heard 
good lectures, that she had read good books, that 
she had traveled — even in foreign lands. Helen 
thought that the mental food of this charming 


164 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


woman had been thoroughly digested, and had 
become a part of the finely grained creature. She 
wished to liken Lady Charming to a beautiful 
painting, or to one of Mrs. Casey’s handsome 
vases in the parlor. But remembering the very 
strong element that served a different purpose 
from either the vase or the painting, she could 
think of nothing more appropriate than one of 
the thin tea-cups belonging to Mrs. Casey’s din- 
ner-set. While the cup was pretty, it was also 
useful. 

Uncle Dan had felt less trepidation in the be- 
ginning toward Lady Useful. Upon further ac- 
quaintance, however, he found that she was dis- 
posed to derive amusement from his eccentricities, 
and this disposition disquieted him. 

She, too, had heard good lectures, had read 
good books, and had visited places of interest, but 
her knowledge seemed only a commodity within 
her possession. From Lady Useful’s conversa- 
tion, Helen learned that Lady Useful had ren- 
dered much unselfish service. But Helen could 
liken this woman to nothing more satisfactory 
than a large, heavy cup. She thought of a cup 
which she had bought several years ago at a rail- 
way restaurant for the sake of the tea. The cup 
had escaped destruction at the time of the fire; 
and now Helen sometimes took it from the 
kitchen-shelf and used it in measuring ingredients 
for cake. 

Only once more did Uncle Dan desire to ap- 
peal to Helen, and it was when he intimated that 
he could marry yet if he wanted to. “For,” he 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 165 

argued, ‘‘worse men than me have married at my 
time of life, an’ worse lookin’ ones.” Lady Use- 
ful laughed a significant laugh. When Uncle Dan 
looked at Helen he believed that she was more 
attractive than he had ever known her to be. 
“She ’ud be as grand as this one,” he thought, 
meaning Lady Charming, “if she jes’ had her 
chances.” 

Helen did not talk much, but she enjoyed the 
occasion in her own way. She was surprised 
somewhat that she could mark her development 
since the last dining which she attended. Upon 
measuring herself with the other girls present and 
with some of the married women, she was glad 
that she had spent as much time as she could spare 
in studying her few books. She ate along, think- 
ing, and only half hearing the conversation around 
her. At length she looked up to answer Miss 
Rose Fleming’s question. Then her eyes wan- 
dered around the table, and she thought: “People 
remind me of colors, and there are many shades 
of the various colors. There’s a rainbow around 
Mrs. Casey’s table. 

“Camilla is a scarlet. When she grows older, 
she will be a deep, rich red ; that is, if she accepts 
the opportunities for her highest development. 
Cousin Nina is a faded pink. There is a faded 
green, and a washed out blue. The pity of it! 
Lady Useful is an orange. Once a brighter hue, 
I judge. As she grows older the color will 
deepen into a still more substantial shade. Lady 
Charming was once a blue. As she grew older 
and sympathized with sorrow, and permitted her 


i66 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


own disappointments to be turned into sweetness 
of character, she became the lavender that she is 
now. She will be a purple when her nobleness of 
character makes greater growth. How I wish I 
could develop after the manner of Lady Charm- 
ing! • 

‘‘Few show any regard for their natural colors 
in the selection of apparel. That though wouldn’t 
do every time, perhaps. There’s Cousin Jenny 
dressed in black and white while she herself is 
brown and yellow. Mrs. Lewis recognizes her 
own colors; they are light blue and Nile green. 
Uncle Dan is a rusty brown. Yet, it seems he 
one time gave promise of becoming a rich, golden 
brown.” 

Helen was interrupted by other remarks that 
were addressed to her, and she next thought of 
the bountiful feast which Mrs. Casey had pro- 
vided. Four courses were served. 

After the last course Mira passed around the 
finger-bowl. Uncle Dan was engaged in conver- 
sation with Lady Charming, and failed to observe 
the office that the article served the ladies. So 
when Mira handed the dainty little bowl to Uncle 
Dan, with two rose-geranium leaves floating on the 
water, he said : 

“Naw, I thank you. Honey. I’ve had all I kin 
eat. Ef you have any regard fer yer Uncle Dan’s 
comfort, don’t fetch him anything more.” Seeing 
the amused expressions of the ladies, he thought 
that he would improve the mistake which he had 
doubtless made. So he said, “Well, I don’t eat 
greens much nohow, ef ’tis jes’ a little bit, ’cept 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


167 


in the spring before anything else comes on.” 
And to the amused expressions was added hearty 
laughter. 

As soon as Mira could command herself suf- 
ficiently, she offered the finger-bowl to Lady 
Charming. Uncle Dan watched his neighbor dip 
her delicate finger-tips into the water and then 
dry them on a napkin. 

‘‘Oh, that’s what you do with it, is it?” he said. 
Then he laughed. When he saw the last lady 
touch the water with the ends of her fingers, he 
said: 

“Well, Mrs. Casey, I don’t think that’s much of 
a compliment to a party o’ ladies. Fer when I eat, 
I use my knife an’ fork, an’ when I — ^well, when I 
use a bowl, I want more water in it than that has 
got, an’ I don’t want — I reckon it ain’t greens, 
then — no flowers in my way. I ’spose, though, it 
suits the ladies. It gives ’em an excuse fer not 
wettin’ their ban’s much. Mira, ef you’ll jes’ fetch 
it ’long back, I b’lieve I’ll try it.” 

Mira returned with the bowl. Uncle Dan 
buried the fingers of first one hand and then of 
the other in the water, saying: “Now my fingers 
don’t look pooty in here like the ladies’ does. But 
when a feller’s in Rome he has to do as the Ro- 
mans does, they say.” 

Soon the company rose from the table. Some 
returned to the parlor, and some went to the sit- 
ting-room, and some, chiefly the girls of the party, 
went to the veranda. 

After a short time, some one on the veranda 


i68 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


•called to Mrs. Hedrick, who was in the parlor, to 
come and see Mrs. Casey’s flowers. 

Mrs. Hedrick left the room, and other members 
of the party followed her. Only Mrs. Lewis re- 
mained. She got up and walked to the table which 
stood across the corner. She looked at the roses 
in the cut-glass bowl, admiring especially the one 
which held its head above the others. 

She clasped her fingers around the stem. The 
full-blown red rose was resting against the palm 
of her white hand, showing each handsome, nearly 
faultless petal, when Uncle Dan entered. 

Finding her alone, he crossed the room, and 
stood near her. A flood of memories that had 
not risen in the presence of the crowd swept over 
him. His face flushed; he thought of the absent 
husband, and he began to talk on ordinary topics. 

She still stood with her fingers about the rose, 
apparently deep in contemplation of it in spite of 
her civil answers to him. 

‘Tsn’t it beautiful?” she said at length, letting 
the flower fall back to its original position. 

“Yes, ’tis that.” Uncle Dan saw the absent hus- 
band in dimmer outlines. “It reminds me,” he 
said, “of a woman among other women, all of ’em 
pooty an’ good an’ nice, but somehow the one gits 
up above the others an’ stays there. She seems 
pootier an’ nicer then all the rest. There’s one 
woman what’s always stood up in my mind jes’ 
that a-way, an’ when I see her fer the first time in 
— how many years has it been, Polly?” 

“Fifteen,” she said. 

“To-day when I see her fer the first time in fif- 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


169 


teen year, she still stands out jes’ so.” Knowing 
that he had gone as far as he could go in that di- 
rection, and as far as he wished to go, he asked, 
“Do you like it up there?” 

“Yes, Mr. Richardson.” She sat down in a chair 
near the table, straightened back her shoulders, 
and continued, “You know I always liked society; 
that is, that kind of society.” 

“Naw, you didn’t always/’ Uncle Dan thought, 
“but I reckon it’s all right that you do now.” 
What he said was : “I’m glad you air happy then, 
Polly. I’m real glad you air.” 

“About as happy as the average, I suppose. 
We can’t any of us have everything, you know, 
Mr. Richardson; and I was an ambitious girl.” 

“As ef I haven’t cause to remember that you 
was,” thought Uncle Dan. “And she’ll be tellin’ 
me to call her Mary nex’, or worse still, Mrs. 
Lewis, an’ I’m not a-goin’ to do it.” Therefore 
he rose to go, saying, as he extended his hand to 
her: “I’m glad I’ve seen you ag’in. I’m glad I 
have ! And you say you air happy ?” 

“Well— yes,” faltered she. 

“I’m glad of that. You yourself could hardly 
be gladder.” 

“You are not going?” protested a chorus of 
voices. The ladies were entering the room, 

“Yes; I reckon I’ll have to go. I hate though 
to tear myse’f away from this fascinatin’ com- 
pany.” 

“When did you get back from the Springs?” 
asked one. 

“Two weeks ago, I b’lieve it was.” 


170 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Did you enjoy your trip?’’ 

“Well, I kin not say I did overmuch. But 
Bruce he improved, an’ that’s what we went fer.” 

“I didn’t know he’d been sick,” said another. 

“Yas’m; the day we thrashed wheat at Captain 
Morgan’s he got overhet some, an’ he never re- 
kivered right off. The doctor he thought he ’ud 
mend faster ef he ’ud go to the Springs fer a spell. 
Bruce he wanted me to go ’long with him. I 
thought he orter have somebody, an’ I didn’t 
know nobody what ’ud take keer o’ him as well as 
I would. So I ’greed to it. But I must say ef 
he hadn’t a kep’ his own head on his shoulders he 
’ud a been worse off then he was when he went 
there.” 

“Why so?” asked two or three. 

“Well, it was jes’ this a-way. I meant it all 
good ’nough, but meanin’ good an’ doin’ good 
ain’t the same thing ever’ time — not ever’ time, 
you know. It wouldn’t a proved to be that time. 
It never proved to be so to myse’f. I never had 
no wrong intentions t’wards myse’f, not as I 
knows of, but I got pow’ful sick anyhow.” 

“Why, you got sick, too ?” asked some one. 

“It come ’bout this a-way. I don’t see no use o’ 
havin’ so many springs at one place nohow. Ef 
I was runnin’ a Spring Resort, an’ there was a 
whole passel o’ springs round an’ about, I ’ud stop 
up all but the right one. I would fer the sake o’ 
humanity ! That evenin’ after we got there, 
Bruce he was sorter wore out from his trip, an’ 
so he went to his room an’ laid down. After a bit, 
I went out, scurryin’ round a little to see what was 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


171 


there, an’ I found a dozen springs or more. One 
of ’em had iron in the water; a-nother had mag- 
nesia in it ; a-nother had salt. I disremember the 
names o’ all of ’em, there was so many. I sez to 
myse’f, ‘I don’t see no use o’ Bruce wearin’ hisse’f 
out more a-goin’ to first one then t’other o’ these 
fer a drink o’ water.’ So I goes back to the room 
an’ slips in, fer Bruce he was asleep, an’ gits the 
pitcher an’ the mug off the washstand, an’ slips 
out ag’in. Then I goes first to one spring an’ 
a-nother, an’ dips a little out o’ each one of ’em 
till I made the rounds. When I got the pitcher 
’most full, I carried it back to the house. Bruce 
he was still asleep, an’ I thought I would jes’ let 
him git his nap out. Bein’ the pitcher was a big 
one, an’ there was plenty more water in them 
springs, I drunk two or three cupfuls. After a 
while, Bruce he woke up, an’ I took several more 
cupfuls right off fer his encouragement, fer the 
doctor said he orter drink it plentiful. 

“ ‘Now it’s yer time, boy,’ I sez, after’ards, 
handin’ him a cupful. 

“ ‘Where did it come from ?’ he ast. 

“ ‘Come from ? Why, it come from all over 
these here hills, or from all under ’em one. I ain’t 
no great han’ at ’splainin’ the hidden secrets o’ 
Natur’. But I ’low from the manifold efforts she’s 
put forth gittin’ the water to the surface here that 
she ain’t got no notion o’ actin’ no way but free- 
handed with sick fellers what come here to be 
made well. So you jes’ show yer ’predation of it 
by drinkin’ of it plentiful like the doctor tole you.’ 


172 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


'But I mean is it from the Iron Spring, or 
which one?’ ast Bruce. 

" 'From the Iron one an’ all the balance of ’em,’ 
I sez. 

"Bruce he laid back then an’ busted out 
laughin’. 'You don’t mean fer me to drink that?’ 
he ast. 

" 'Why I thought that was what you come here 
fer,’ I sez. 

" 'Not all at onct,’ he m.anaged to say between 
his laughin’. 'Mebbe that might do fer a well man, 
but I ain’t willin’ to risk it on a sick one.’ 

" 'Well now, you ain’t?’ An’ I spoke ’bout all 
the trouble I had went to to gether up that pitch- 
erful fer him, an’ I sez, 'Ef I had a knowed that, 
I ’ud a put up with jes’ one spring at a time fer 
my’sef.’ 

" 'I’m sorry ’bout yer trouble,’ sez Bruce, still 
a laughin’ fit to kill hisse’f, 'but ef you don’t wisht 
you’d a put up with jes’ one at a time anyhow be- 
fore you air done with it. I’m pow’ful mistaken. 
Don’t you take no more o’ that mixtur’. Uncle 
Dan.’ An’ I never ; but, sir, the doctor he had to 
come an’ physic me up. It made me think the 
Spring Resort was all a hoax anyhow, but Bruce 
an’ the doctor they ’lowed that it wasn’t intended 
to be took as a mixtur’.” 

Just as Uncle Dan finished, Mrs. Casey came in 
from the dining-room, where she had been serv- 
ing dinner to the children. He took his leave of 
her, and bade the ladies in the parlor good-by. 
Then he stopped on the veranda a few minutes to 
say to Camilla : 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


173 


“I’ll tell Bruce’ bout them — what do you call 
’em? — finger-bowls before he fetches a lady there 
to give big dinners. What do you say?” 

“Oh, I haven’t anything to say about it, Uncle 
Dan.” And her cheeks partook of the scarlet of 
her bow of satin ribbon. She turned off from him, 
and he saw Helen bending over a pot of helio- 
trope. 

“There’s somethin’ in that flower what’s like 
her,” he thought. Her gentle ways is fragrant of 
her sweet mind. I don’t know what the flower is 
fragrant of. Jes’ itse’f, I reckon.” And he smiled 
at his poetical effort. 

“What is it. Uncle Dan ?” asked Helen, looking 
up at him. “Are you happy to leave us?” 

“I was jes’ thinkin’, but mebbe I better not tell 
you what it was. Well, good-evenin’. Good- 
evenin’, ladies, to you all.” And he bowed himself 
into the walk. 

As he went toward the stile, he thought, “She 
has the true ring,” meaning Helen, “that some- 
how t’other one hasn’t got.” The “t’other one” 
was Camilla. “She ’ud know how to take keer 
of a feller ef he got sick,” Uncle Dan thought. 
“Ef I was a young man I know which one I would 
set up to. I mean ef I was a different man. There 
ain’t none fer me as ’tis. But she never had no 
cold chills to-day when I called her Polly, did 
she?” 

He stroked his horse’s mane, and then climbed 
into the saddle. “It sounded good to her, I 
thought. It did fer a little while, I’m certain, fer 
she ain’t heerd it in so long. But she was right; 


174 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


she wouldn’t a been satisfied to be Polly all the 
time. I was right, too, in thinkin’ so way back 
yander. I couldn’t a stretched up to Daniel. I 
reckon she seen it to-day ef she never seen it be- 
fore. So it turned out all right ; leastwise, I 
reckon it did. She’s better took keer of anyhow 
then I could a done it, an’ she’s happy, she sez. 
Happier then she ’ud a been with jes’ Dan, I ’low. 
I orter be ef she is, I reckon.” He drew a deep 
breath, struck the horse with the reins, and said, 
‘^Git up!” 

In the mean time, the ladies reassembled in the 
parlor, and some one asked Mira to play. 

She sat down at the piano, but her playing was 
below her usual standard. Mrs. Casey divined the 
reason, and soon relieved her daughter by prevail- 
ing upon Cora Taylor to take her place. 

As Mira returned to her chair, Helen thought, 
“The girl is pink with just a rim of deep, rich red 
developing. How pretty!” 

Cora rendered two selections. These she said 
were all that she could play without her notes. 
And no one except her mother believed that she 
could play them as they should be played. 

“You are mistaken, Cora,” said Mrs. Taylor, 
looking up from a ruffle which she was gathering 
for the skirt of a dress. “I don’t think you play 
them as you should, but they are about all I can 
get you to learn off.” 

Then the story came out. Helen saw that Mrs. 
Taylor had been a struggling green which the 
frosts of disappointment had blackened and with- 
ered. And the mother desired to develop her 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


I7S 

daughter along the chosen lines for herself. But 
Cora possessed no talent in common with her 
mother, and so Mrs. Taylor was destined to a 
second disappointment. 

‘Tf mother would furnish me with ribbons, 
flowers, and bonnets, perhaps I could turn out 
something to suit me,” Cora said, in a measure of 
self-defense. 

Helen mused no longer on the folly of Mrs. 
Taylor’s course, for she heard her aunt talking, 
and she wished to listen to what she said. ‘‘Well, 
if C. D. can’t do that for me,” Mrs. Morgan de- 
clared, “I don’t know what he’s good for.” 

Then Lady Philosopher spoke : 

“Well, I should think you would wish to have a 
voice in the government of your country.” She 
delivered each word as though it was a skilfully 
executed piece of work of which she was justly 
proud. 

“I consider that I have a voice in it now,” 
claimed Mrs. Morgan. “When C. D. does other 
things to suit me, I can trust him to do the votin’ 
too. Who’s goin’ to look after the cookin’ and 
the sewin’ if I go to readin’ to find out ’bout this 
man and the other one. Of course I would want 
to know which was the right one if I had to put 
my name to a paper ’bout him.” 

“I should think you would wish to be informed 
anyhow,” spoke the advocate. 

“That’s all well enough if it’s countin’ fer any- 
thing. But while C. D. can ’tend to that part for 
the house, I don’t want to have it to do. I have 
enough without it ; things which is just as import- 


176 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


ant as that is too — things that C. D. couldn’t be- 
gin to do. If I have to do the votin’ too, I don’t 
know what C. D. is good for; but maybe I 
oughtn’t have spoke so plain.” She observed Ca- 
milla’s face. “I reckon I’d better go before I say 
anything else.” She rolled up her work. “It 
ain’t fair, I don’t think, to make a woman do it all, 
and I, for one, am mighty opposed to undertakin’ 
it.” She rose, and Mrs. Casey protested that it 
was too early yet to leave. 

“But I have to drive a piece, you know,” Mrs. 
Morgan pleaded. “Nina, are you goin’ now? You 
can ride down home with us.” 

“Yes’m, I’ll go.” 

Then one guest and another left, until soon the en- 
tire company had departed. The spirit of desolation 
hovered over Mrs. Casey and Mira, for their 
thoughts returned to their conversation of the 
morning. 

That night after the children had gone to bed, 
Mira threw her arms around her mother and said : 

“How selfish I was this morning, mamma, to 
think only of myself ; to-night it’s you I think of 
more. I’m so sorry for you.” And the mother 
kissed the head which rested on her shoulder, be- 
holding what Helen would have called the widen- 
ing of the rim of deep, rich red. 


CHAPTER XIV 


On the morning after the dining, Camilla 
opened the top drawer of her dressing-case, took 
out a handful of loose ribbons, and laid them on 
the marble slab. Then she gathered up several 
gloves, two soiled handkerchiefs, and four or five 
white lawn ties. She folded the ribbons and placed 
them in the drawer. Afterwards she laid the gloves 
in pairs beside the ribbons. Upon seeing only one 
tan glove, she searched through the heterogene- 
ous collection for the other, and then she remem- 
bered that Bruce Turner had put it in his pocket. 

She had gone to meeting with him one evening, 
and after preaching they had stopped at Elsie 
Gorman’s. Elsie had brought in some fruit, and 
in order to partake of it, Camilla had removed her 
gloves. Bruce had put them in his pocket, but 
Camilla had supposed that he had returned both 
of them. This young man, may it be said, pos- 
sessed a quality that might have been called im- 
pudence if he had not been chivalrous withal. 

‘Tf he kept it purposely, I reckon he won’t want 
it any longer,” she thought. ‘‘He may be waiting 
now for me to send back his letters, thinking he 
will return it then.” She took a package of letters 
out of the drawer, saying, “1 will do that this very 
day.” 

Next she went to the table, lifted a writing-desk 
from its lower shelf, and looked through that. In 
it she found one short letter and two notes. 


12 


178 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


She sat down on the floor and reread these. 
Then she laid hold of the package on the dressing- 
case, and reread parts of some of the letters. 

Afterwards, she brought an empty shoe-box 
from the closet, and placed the letters in it. Then 
she tied up the box, and wrapped it in brown 
paper, using twice as much as was actually re- 
quired. 

Upon putting the package aside, she thought, 
'Thn glad it’s over. I’ll go this very afternoon 
and mail it, and then I’ll be through with it all for- 
ever.” 

Soon after dinner Camilla appeared in the door- 
way of her mother’s room, and said: 

‘Ts there anything you want me to do in Mead- 
owville? I thought I would drive up there.” 

“Yes; I want to send some roastin’ ears to 
your sister. I know they haven’t had any yet of 
any consequence. Tell Jim to get ’em out of the 
cellar. I had him put ’em in there this mornin’. 
Is he through hitchin’ up the horse? Who are 
you goin’ to see this afternoon, anyhow? You 
was just up there yesterday.” 

“No one in particular.” And Camilla finished 
buttoning her driving-gloves, considering the way 
of concealing the object of her trip from her 
mother. 

“Just goin’ to the post-office then? Are you 
expectin’ anything special?” 

“I’m not expecting anything.” 

“Your sister used to tell me ever’thing. I don’t 
know what’s to become of a girl that won’t 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


179 


confide in her mother. I don’t know what to 
think of you anyhow. Ain’t your father told you 
yet that you ought to make up with Bruce 
Turner?” 

“Mother, you actually make me wish there 
never was a Bruce Turner!” replied Camilla, turn- 
ing to go. 

“Girls are so silly now-a-days. When you stop 
at Nina’s tell her that she can get more corn when- 
ever she’s ready to put it up. What a crooked 
way it is: one child who would have all the nice 
things and good things if she could get ’em; the 
other who could have ’em won’t take ’em.” 

“Yes’m; shall I tell Nina that?” And Camilla 
tried her old laugh. Then she picked up the lap- 
robe with the box of letters under it, and went to 
the stile. 

She drove rapidly. And as she went down 
next to the last hill before arriving at the village, 
the breaching-strap broke. Fortunately the horse 
stopped at once. 

Camilla jumped out of the buggy. She recog- 
nized the trouble, and she believed, with the 
proper means, that she could manage it. But not 
a string could she find. Only yesterday she saw 
a bunch under the buggy-seat, but Jim dragged 
it out, doubtless, when he put in the corn. She 
wished that Alvin Crane would raise his own corn. 
Then she remembered her personal obligation to 
him, and more calmly considered her situation. 

First she took her handkerchief and repaired 
one break with it. Then she removed her ribbon 
belt and tied it in several knots around the strap. 


i8o 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Taking the ribbon from her neck, she mended the 
strap in still a third place. “It’s fortunate I hap- 
pened to wear ribbons to-day,” she thought. “You 
never looked so gay before, old John. It’s a pity 
I didn’t wear my scarlet satin bow so you could 
have it on your forehead. You shall have a bow, 
nevertheless, for I appreciate your good behavior.” 
And she pulled out her hat-pin and stripped her 
hat of its red silk drapery. This she knotted and 
fastened in the head-strap of the bridle. 

A cart stopped behind her buggy. But she was 
laughing about John’s head ribbon and did not see 
Captain Morgan until he spoke from her side: 

“Why, what’s the matter? Are you broke 
down ?” 

“Well, yes, sir, I was; but I’m tied up again.” 

“I see. Did it require all this to mend the 
bridle? Why, John, you must have gone to sleep. 
Did he stumble?” 

“Oh, no, it wasn’t there,” Camilla admitted ; “it 
was the backing-strap.” 

“The backing-strap !” Captain Morgan ex- 
amined the harness, and said: “You seem to have 
got that pretty secure, if it does look fancy. I 
haven’t any strings though to help you out. The 
bridle is all right, you say?” 

“Don’t you think it looks all right?” said she, 
mischievously. 

Captain Morgan turned his gentle eyes upon 
Camilla, and asked : 

“How come you to do it?” 

“Oh!” Camilla laid her head against John’s 
neck and laughed. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS i8i 

'^Don’t you think of anything except fun?” the 
captain said. 

“Isn't that the pleasantest thing in the world?” 
She raised her head, feeling ashamed of herself 
for some reason that she did not clearly define. 

“Fun is all right in its place, Camilla, but it 
ought not to be the principal object in life. Think 
of your opportunity with all of life before you !” 

“Opportunity for what? I've been wanting op- 
portunity all my life ; at any rate for some time.'' 

“Opportunity to lay up treasures in Heaven. 
Think of the great amount you might store away 
Over There before you get old. Just think of it !'' 

“I never thought of Heaven at all except as a 
place for people to go when they have to die ; and 
maybe for old people to study about a little. I 
never thought that they would do it if they didn't 
believe they would have to go somewhere soon. 
Not you, for you are different from others. 
I reckon the Lord just made you so. He put so 
many different kinds of people in the world. He 
only sprinkled a few like you, that is, if He made 
any more of your kind at all.'' 

“Now here, child, the Lord gives a person phys- 
ical life and he grows. So He gives spiritual 
life and the person grows. There's not much, to 
be sure, that a man can look upon as resulting 
from his own effort, but the whole depends on the 
little that he does do. If you take an early start, 
you see the chance you have. The more you do, 
the bigger you get, and the better able you are to 
lay up treasures in Heaven. Camilla, you don't 
want to be a Nobody Over There, do you?'' 


i 82 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Oh, oh ! I haven’t thought I was in any hurry 
to go Over There. I haven’t had enough fun 
here yet.” 

“But it does not depend on our hurry every 
time.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” And his kindliness made her 
wish to lay bare her heart and to let him direct 
her. 

But apparently by mutual consent that that was 
not the place for prolonged conversation. Captain 
Morgan went back to his cart, and Camilla took 
down the bow from John’s head. Camilla thought, 
“If it’s not all fun, John, you’d better take the will 
for the deed.” Then she got in the buggy. 

She drove to the post-office before stopping at 
her sister’s, for she did not wish to make explana- 
tions about her package. 

The mail had just arrived, and a crowd had 
gathered in the room and about the door outside. 

The postmaster tumbled out the contents of the 
mail-bag on the counter. And when he finished 
distributing the mail, the crowd dispersed. Some 
among the number shuffled down the side-walk, 
showing no disappointment, because they knew 
none. They went primarily to see the fun, and 
secondarily to get whatever might chance to fall 
to them. 

At length the postmaster came out and brought 
Camilla a letter. When she in turn gave him the 
box to mail, she felt equal to encountering and 
subduing whatever else the world held in store for 
her. For she considered that she had reached the 
end of “the affair” with Bruce Turner. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


183 


Camilla drove back to Nina’s and put out the 
corn. Then borrowing a belt and a collar from 
her sister, she went to the shop to have the har- 
ness repaired. 

Later, Joel and little Annie, who had ridden 
back with their aunt, asked her to beg their papa 
for some money with which to buy ice-cream. 
As Camilla had spent all from her own purse and 
still felt equal to almost any undertaking, she con- 
sented. 

When she went with the children into the store, 
she was amused at her boldness. For she thought 
of Alvin’s recent need of dimes. But she walked 
up to him and said : 

“We want to buy ice-cream. It’s ten cents a 
plate, and we haven’t but five cents among us. 
Can you imagine where we can find the other 
twenty-five ?” 

It was a previously unheard-of request from 
Camilla, and Alvin regarded it as another act of 
graciousness. Thanking her in his heart, he 
placed sixty cents in her hand and told her to buy 
two plates each. 

“No, no, no!” she declared, “one is sufficient.” 
And she retained only the twenty-five cents. 

“Mamma ought to get Aunt Milly to ask for 
her,” said Joel, hopping about on one foot, expres- 
sive of his delight. “She thinks papa don’t give 
her much money.” 

“Yes,” echoed little Annie. 

Camilla blushed, and Alvin turned away. 

On Saturday afternoon of the same week. Uncle 


i84 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Dan went to the stable to saddle a horse. It was 
his usual time for a trip to Meadowville. But he 
found that there was not an animal nearer than the 
pasture. Yet as the choice lay between catching 
a horse and doing without the weekly newspaper, 
besides foregoing the pleasure of hearing any 
news that might be afloat, he decided to get the 
horse. 

He took down a bridle from a wooden peg just 
within the barn, hoping that Charley would come 
up and take the bit in his mouth as he sometimes 
did. He walked down a low hill ; the horses were 
grazing along the bottom. He held up the bridle, 
calling, ^‘Co up, co up, co up, Charley !” as though 
he reserved some choice gift. 

Charley walked leisurely toward the extended 
bridle which framed Uncle Dan’s face. 

Uncle Dan called softly, 'Uo, Charley, co up,” 
beaming satisfaction for thus easily concluding the 
job. 

Charley stuck his nose to the bridle, and then 
galloped off, as much as to say that he had 
changed his mind. 

Uncle Dan dropped his hands to his sides, and 
the face out of the frame expressed strong indig- 
nation. He next called Ned, but Ned seemed to 
know his own mind from the beginning, and only 
scampered away across the pasture. 

Uncle Dan slung the bridle to the ground and 
trotted after the herd as fast as his short, fat legs, 
unaccustomed to the exercise, would permit. He 
went up hill and down until he fairly panted for 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 185 

breath, and the perspiration ran down the sides 
of his scarlet face in streamlets. 

At length coming upon the bridle, he dropped 
down by it in despair. He pulled first one shirt- 
sleeve and then the other from against his arms, 
saying, ‘‘Shucks ! ef I'd a knowed the whole passel 
of 'em was a-goin' to run like steam-engines, I 
wouldn't 'a' went after 'em. Naw, I wouldn't!" 

He determined to give up the chase. But as 
he rose with the bridle in his hand, Charley 
walked up and waited to receive the bit. 

“Why didn’t you do that at first, you rascal!” 
said Uncle Dan, as he fastened the strap around 
the horse’s throat. “You jes' wanted to give me 
a run, did you? I reckon I jes' 'bout as well 've 
walked to Meadowville in the first place an' been 
done with it.” 

When Uncle Dan asked for his newspapers, 
Mr. Gorman handed him also a box for Bruce 
Turner. 

The next afternoon Bruce Turner let down the 
leaf of the 'Writing-desk and seated himself in 
front of it. 

He drew a package of letters from a pigeon- 
hole, took them out of their envelopes, one by one, 
and reread every line. 

At first he obtained a degree of his former pleas- 
ure. But in the light of his present knowledge 
he soon saw that wit took the place of sentiment. 
This adroitness, however, demanded a certain ad- 
miration in spite of his disposition to resent the 
way in which he had been treated. 

From another pigeon-hole he drew forth a tan 


i86 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


kid-glove, straightened one finger after another, 
stretched it out full length on the leaf of the desk, 
and smiled. He remarked half aloud : “I will not 
be mocked by the glove when I can’t have the 
hand. I’ll send it back with her letters. I’m sick 
of pretenses.” 

Then he thrust his hands into his trousers pock- 
ets, tilted his chair on its hind posts, and thought. 
This, though, was not the first time since his last 
interview with Camilla that he had thought long 
and seriously. His life now seemed without inter- 
est, for she was the central figure around which 
he had developed every plan. But why she de- 
ceived him continued to perplex him. Two or 
three times he took up his pen to ask her again, 
but each time laid it down, thinking that he would 
likely become none the wiser for asking. So in- 
stead of writing, he emptied another pigeon-hole, 
taking from it a bow of scarlet chiffon. 

This he had found in his buggy. And he had 
told Camilla that he intended to keep it. 

Now as the bow lay on the desk before him, his 
attitude toward it was one of mingled resentment, 
amusement, and affection. ‘Tt deserves to be dis- 
posed of in no ordinary way, at any rate,” he de- 
cided at length. So he opened the book-case, 
took out a decorated box, and removed the linen 
note paper. And carefully folding the bow, he laid 
it in the box. He went out of the house and walked 
down to the little graveyard on the hillside. There, 
close to the rock wall without, he buried the bow 
of scarlet chiffon. 

'Tt represents a relationship of the soul,” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


187 


thought he. He got the idea somewhere in read- 
ing. “Is not that nearer than mere flesh and 
blood relationship ? So I Ve placed it without the 
wall nearer my view from the house.’^ 

Uncle Dan lay stretched upon a bench under a 
tree in the yard. For he thought that he was too 
sore from yesterday’s exertions to sit up. His 
hat fell from over his eyes as Bruce replaced the 
hoe in the coal-house. And he remotely con- 
nected Bruce’s using the tool with the box which 
came the day before. 


CHAPTER XV 


Captain Morgan jolted on to Meadowville in 
his dump-cart and had his sack of corn ground. 
Then he jolted toward home with his sack of 
meal. 

When he overtook Camilla on his way to town, 
he was thinking of his damaged wheat. And as 
he repassed the place in the road where the acci- 
dent occurred, his mind reverted to his former sub- 
ject. 

'T believed I was doing my duty by staying 
with Fanny that afternoon,’’ he thought. ‘T be- 
lieved I was; she was so much worse. But the 
rain came on and injured my wheat, lessening its 
value considerably. I don’t know sometimes just 
what is best. I commit my ways to the Ford, and 
I don’t want to doubt him, but if I could ’ve sold 
my wheat for its original value, I could make 
Fanny more comfortable. She needs it so much 
too. Here’s Cliff, who already had a large 
amount of money out at interest, sold his wheat 
at a good price. I’m not envying him, and I know 
natural causes are followed by natural results, but 
I don’t understand why things don’t turn out 
right every time when I commit my ways to Him. 
It’s hard!” The cart-wheels jolted over a layer 
of new rock, interrupting the captain’s train of 
thought. When the short stretch of rock ended, 
he continued: 

“It’s just a temptation, I reckon, and I have 
yielded to it. When God has made His course 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


189 


plain to me at different times in the past, I 
oughtn’t doubt Him now even if the way does 
seem dark.” He pulled on the reins as his horse 
set off in a trot down the hill. 

When he arrived at his own gate, he stopped 
and climbed out of the cart. 

The horse moved forward. ^‘Whoa !” he called ; 
but Molly, bent on her own course, plunged 
through the open gate, catching the wheel on the 
gate-post. 

“Why didn’t you wait?” said the captain, catch- 
ing the bridle. “I was coming.” 

He seated himself again, and as he wound around 
the grassy hillside to the house, he thought, “I 
oughtn’t to find fault with her when I’m treating 
my Master no better.” For he then realized that 
he was rushing ahead, showing an unwillingness 
to trust in his Master’s promises. 

He carried the meal to the kitchen. And to 
Helen, who was beginning preparations for sup- 
per, he said: 

“Daughter, make me some batter cakes, 
please.” 

On his way to the barn, he thought, “But my 
spiritual digestion is not good enough yet for any- 
thing except milk.” He was disgusted with his 
lack of sturdiness. “My afternoon’s experience 
has persuaded me that I’m still a babe. I’m not 
ready for any spiritual exercise except that fit 
for babes.” 

After a short time, he went back to the pike- 
gate to nail on the rest for the latch which Molly 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


igo 

had shoved off. While he was doing the work, 
he looked up and saw Mr. Cliff Morgan passing. 

“Haven’t seen anything of my black mare, have 
you?” Mr. Morgan called. “She got out some 
time to-day. She’s been running in the wheat- 
field in front of the house, and she’s learned to 
open the gates. She probably let herself out.” 

“No; I haven’t seen her. Where’ve you 
looked?” 

“I rode down the pike a piece, and up the dirt 
road yonder. I inquired of several if they had 
seen her, but nobody had. She may have gone 
the other way though. I haven’t been in that di- 
rection. In fact, I never missed her until about 
two hours ago.” 

Captain Morgan knew of nothing to prevent 
his assisting in the search. For some time he had 
wished to get in closer touch with Mr. Cliff Mor- 
gan so that he could try to help him spiritually. 
So he promised : 

“I’ll help you look for her in the morning.” 

“Never mind. I reckon we’ll trace her up.” 

Mr. Cliff Morgan rode on, and Captain Mor- 
gan returned to the house, thinking, “I wonder 
if this wouldn’t seem to somebody else that I am 
so busy keepin’ up with the sins of other people 
I’ve no time to look after my own. It’s not that 
way though. I have rather waited, hoping some 
one else would say it to him, or he would find it 
out for himself, but it looks as if he’s not going 
to. I can’t stand by any longer and see him in 
need of such help, and make no effort to give it 
to him. I can’t do it. I’d enough rather, though, 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


igi 

so far as my natural inclinations are concerned, 
give him a horse if it would do the same good, 
and I could do it — ’nough rather.” 

When morning came the idea occurred to him 
that perhaps the horse had jumped the fence into 
his field which adjoined Mr. Morgan’s farm. So 
he rode over the place, and found the mare wan- 
dering through a corn-field. 

When he took her home he saw Mr. Morgan at 
the wood-shed. 

^‘Where did you find her?” Mr. Morgan asked. 
He straightened up and rested one hand heavily 
on the ax handle. 

“In my corn-field.” 

“In your corn-field! I’m certainly obliged to 
you for your trouble. The boys will have their 
scouring of the country for nothing. ’Light and 
come in.” He let his ax drop to the ground. 

“N — o,” Captain Morgan said, “but I would 
like to speak with you a few minutes.” He threw 
his foot over the saddle and settled himself side- 
ways. 

“Yes; I want to say when there’s anything that 
I can do for you, let me know. I’m very much 
obliged to you for your time and trouble.” 

“There is something that you can do right 
away, but not for me more than for others, or as 
much as for yourself. Cliff, did you ever think that 
you were a robber?” 

Whatever the captain meant, Mr. Morgan knew 
that he did not intend an insult simply for the sake 
of the insult. Therefore after hesitation, he re- 
plied : 


192 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


''I never stole a dime’s worth of anything in my 
life. Who says I have?” 

‘‘No one. You are a much respected man in the 
community.” 

‘‘That’s what I thought,” Mr. Morgan admitted 
without undue inflation. 

“More is the pity, Cliff.” 

“Why, what do you mean?” Mr. Morgan asked 
good-naturedly. “What have I been doin’?” 

“There’s a difference in God’s standard and in 
the world’s standard.” 

“Is that it? Well, what about it?” 

“Are you not robbing God of talents and time 
for purely selfish purposes ? Are you not robbing 
your own higher nature for the gratification of 
your lower nature? Be square with yourself. 
Cliff. I’m not your judge. I have come only in the 
part of a brother to warn you. There’s a time 
coming when you will have to leave all this. And 
you will feel bad to be a Nobody Over There 
when you’ve been so great a Somebody here. I’ve 
been both here, and I know how it goes.” 

“In your way of looking at it. I’m a genuine 
slink then, am I?” 

“I don’t know it all myself. Cliff, but you could 
come out on the positive side for good more than 
you do. You could show less indifference to 
the Lord’s cause. You know you could. It’s a 
pity that a man who’s as good as you are is not 
better. It’s a pity!” 

“Well, what would you have me do?” 

“Now, the only way that I can answer that is to 
tell you to let the love of God sink deeper into 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


193 


your heart, and become the root of your actions. 
I can no more detail to you the management of 
your spiritual affairs than I can the management 
of your affairs here on the farm. Every man who 
is tryin^ to do right can manage both better than 
anybody can manage them for him. Of course 
there are suggestions and helps that you can get 
from other people in both lines, but it’s your busi- 
ness, you understand.” 

‘‘That sounds sensible. How do you know I’m 
not doin’ the best I can?” 

“Cliff, I believe you are too honest to have me 
think that. Your actions tell something of the 
depths of your love for your Master. Now I must 
be going. Your mare is all right, I think.” 

He threw his leg across the saddle, and rode 
away. Mr. Cliff Morgan picked up his ax and re- 
turned to his wood-chopping. 

“The Good Master himself was not heeded 
every time,” thought Captain Morgan as he rode 
along. “But then we don’t know the outcome in 
every instance, or in any instance, for that mat- 
ter.” 

When he arrived at home he followed a strong 
inclination to go to the house before turning out 
his horse. And as soon as he entered the front 
door he heard his wife groan. He went into the 
room, where she lay in great pain. 

“You hitched your horse?” she asked. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“Well, go for the doctor. Maybe he can do 
something for me. I can’t stand this.” 

13 


194 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“How long have you been feeling worse?” 

“Not so long. I set up a while this mornin’.” 

“Where’s Helen?” 

“I don’t know. She was here a minute ago. 
Oh, go on and bring the doctor.” 

And Captain Morgan rode off more rapidly 
than he had ridden home. Just beyond the mouth 
of the lane he met Jim, the negro boy who lived 
at Mr. Cliff Morgan’s, going home. “The mare 
is already there,” the captain said. “Tell Miss 
Jenny to come over to my house this afternoon 
if she can ; Miss Fanny is worse.” 

“Yes, sir. How’d the mare get home?” 

But Captain Morgan was out of hearing of the 
inquiry. 

The doctor had to wait a few minutes for the 
saddling of his horse. So the captain returned 
alone. 

When he reached home again, he found Helen 
sitting on the veranda steps, crying. 

“Don’t, daughter,” he said, putting his arm 
around her. 

“It looks as if mother just grows worse and 
worse.” 

“Is she suffering more than when I left?” 

“She’s a little easier now, but she does not im- 
prove. She has got to be almost a skeleton.” 

“You must try to be brave. ‘Men ought al- 
ways to pray, and not to faint.’ ” He quoted the 
passage for her comfort, and drew strength from 
it himself. 

“There comes the doctor,” said Helen. “Let’s 
ask him again if there’s nothing that we can do.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


I9S 

When Dr. Grose was leaving, Captain Morgan 
walked to the stile with him, and asked him about 
Mrs. Morgan’s condition. The doctor shook his 
head, and answered : 

''When the warm weather is over, perhaps she 
will be stronger. There is only one chance though 
for permanent relief, and that is an operation. If 
we decide upon that at all, we must wait until cool 
weather comes before we perform it.” 


In the afternoon Mrs. Cliff Morgan and Camilla 
found Mrs. Morgan feeling better and talking 
cheerfully. 

"You just thought it was time I was coming 
over to see you,” said Mrs. Cliff Morgan, drawing 
a chair near the bed, and flourishing a large palm- 
leaf fan. "That was all that was the matter this 
mornin’. I’ve been thinkin’ for some time that 
I would come, but somehow or other I just don’t 
find the chance to get away from home very often. 
There’s always somethin’ or other to do on a 
farm, ain’t there?” 

Mrs. Morgan twisted her hands together nerv- 
ously, but Mrs. Cliff Morgan never noticed, and 
ran on: 

"I haven’t put up my corn yet, and Camilla 
there is wantin’ to go off on a visit, and I will have 
to get her ready, I reckon. Helen, you go on out 
and get some fresh air. I’m goin’ to take charge 
of your mother this afternoon. Captain can get 
out a little, too, if he wants to.” 

Helen rose, and asked Camilla if she saw the 


196 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


tuberoses when she came. The girls went to 
the veranda, and Helen indicated a heavy stalk on 
which were several blooms. 

“How handsome !” exclaimed Camilla. But 
she suppressed these thoughts: “It’ll do, but I 
wouldn’t be bothered with it, I know, if I had as 
much to do as you have.” 

“The strong fragrance at night sickens mother,” 
said Helen. “So late in the afternoon I carry the 
pot and put it just outside my room window. If 
you’ll excuse me. I’ll take it away now.” 

Helen picked up the jar and went down the 
hall with it. 

“May I go to see what becomes of it?” asked 
Camilla, following. 

“If you wish. Yes, come on.” 

Helen bent through the open window, and 
placed the pot on a box. 

“You love them, too, do you?” she asked. 

“How nice your room looks,” spoke Camilla. 
She could not give truthfully the expected an- 
swer. 

Helen drew back into the room, and looked at 
Camilla questioningly. 

“I do think so,” said Camilla, feeling the 
meaning of the gaze. “The order makes me 
ashamed of my room. Where do you find time 
for it?” 

“I don’t know that it takes any more time to 
be orderly than it does to be disorderly; not so 
long really when I count the time I would lose in 
looking for things. It is just the result of habit, I 
suppose.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


197 


“Well, thank you for the rebuke. My habits 
are a different sort, I know.’’ 

“Oh, I beg your pardon.” And both girls 
laughed. 

“I shall forgive you provided you tell me about 
these pictures you have pinned up here on the 
wall. Where do you find the time to paint? Is 
that the result of habit too?” 

“Not exactly; but you needn’t make fun of 
me.” 

“Indeed I’m not. I want to know about them.” 

“All about them?” 

“If you will be so kind.” 

“Then, they are my helps to an ideal life.” 

“Now, I’m in earnest,” said Camilla, moving 
nearer the pictures. “This first one is a fig- 
ure ascending a ladder which reaches from the 
earth to the sky. I see you have ‘Prayer’ written 
beneath it. Come on with your explanations, 
Helen. I thought the ladder which extended from 
earth to Heaven, — ^Jacob’s, wasn’t it? — had angels 
going up and down it. But this is not an angel, 
is it?” 

“Not an angel, by any means,” spoke Helen. 
“It’s only a mortal being climbing nearer to God.” 

Camilla looked around at Helen. “What do 
you call this one, a big book ?” she asked. 

“ ‘Study of His Word.’ ” 

“Bright, wasn’t I ? I might have guessed that.” 

“And this series of horse studies, what about 
it? One picture is of a horse galloping off at full 
speed; another is of a man holding a rearing 
horse by the bridle, while the horse is about half 


198 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


harnessed. The third is of a man driving a horse. 
I don’t see their connection with the other pic- 
tures.” 

‘‘Well,” replied Helen laughing, “I reckon it’s 
not a fine conception of the subject. But I love 
a horse, and I sympathize with a spirited animal 
that has to submit to training until he becomes 
useful in the harness. I call the series ‘Daily Sub- 
mission.’ ” 

“These, then, are your helps to an ideal life: 
‘Prayer,’ ‘Study of His Word,’ and ‘Daily Submis- 
sion.’ You hope to live an ideal life some day, do 
you? I don’t blame you. I know you must have 
a hard time. I wish you could go with me to Cin- 
cinnati the last of September. I am expecting to 
have some fun then.” 

Helen hesitated between pity and laughter. 

“But maybe that’s not your conception of an ideal 
life,” said Camilla, hastily. 

“My natural inclinations lead me to think it is 
something like that.” 

“But your superhuman ones do not, I suppose. 
What a creature!” Camilla sat down on the side 
of the bed. “Tell me, then, what your exalted 
side conceives it to be?” she said. 

“O Camilla!” Helen answered, dropping down 
on the floor near by, “ask some one who is wiser 
and better than I am to tell you what it ought to 
be.” 

“But I want to hear from you, a girl near my 
own age, one who is supposed to look at life in 
somewhat the way that I do when she looks 
through her natural eyes, as you call them.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


199 


^‘Well, Camilla, through these helps I regard 
my daily duties as related to God's great plan of 
the universe, and try to discharge them with the 
same faithfulness that I would wield the scepter 
of a nation, exercising therewith as much gentle- 
ness and patience and their kindred qualities as I 
can command. When I can reach the place where 
I can do the most uncongenial of these with genu- 
ine joy of the spirit, because it is related to God's 
great plan of the universe, and His great plan for 
me, I think then I shall be living an ideal life." 

‘‘Come on, Camilla; it's time we was goin'l" 
called a voice from the hall. 

“Don't come out," said Camilla, “my memory 
will wish to visit My Lady in Her Chamber, and 
behold in her a curiosity of the age." 

“But I want to go out and help, you see." 

“You darling!" And Camilla kissed Helen. 


CHAPTER XVI 


The last of September came. On the morning 
previous to the day when Camilla would leave 
home, she laid out her dresses on her bed. Then 
she took her best underskirts and nightrobes from 
the middle drawer of her dressing-case, and placed 
them in the bottom of her trunk. She put in a 
dressing-sack next. Afterwards she folded the skirt 
of a Nile-green evening-dress, but finding it too 
long for the allotted space, she unfolded it, and 
folded it again in a shorter length. Then she laid 
it in her trunk. She next placed in a cloth street 
dress. She thought that she had nearly finished the 
packing, when her mother came puffing into the 
room, rattling the pantry keys, and saying: 

“Don’t put ’em in yet. I want to fold ’em.” 

“Don’t?” 

“You haven’t already put ’em in? Camilla 
Morgan! I know you have mussed ’em; ’most 
ruined ’em, I expect. I know you have I Let me 
see?” Mrs. Morgan lifted out one article after 
another, saying, “This oughtn’t have been put 
here, and that oughtn’t have been put there, and 
what do you mean by laying a heavy street dress 
on top of a light evening-dress? I wonder you 
didn’t put your hat in first, and everything else 
on top of it.” 

'T wish I could put my hat in there. I hate to 
be bothered with carrying a box.” 

“You hate to be bothered with anything. You 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


201 


haven’t got but one hat to carry. IBooks like you 
oughtn’t mind carryin’ that. I want you to get 
you a nice one while you are there. Get your 
cousin Nannie to go with you when you select it; 
don’t just you and May depend on your judg- 
ments for it.” She refolded a dress-skirt which 
Camilla had folded. 

“What sort, mother? I’m afraid I can’t please 
you unless you tell me. What must I pay for it?” 

“Well, that will be owin’ to how much money 
your father gives you.” She knew full well that 
Mr. Morgan would give Camilla any amount that 
she, Mrs. Morgan, would mention; but, as was 
her custom, she wished her daughter to believe in 
the authority of the father. “I ’ud like for you to 
have a nice one, one that’s becoming to you. I 
can’t tell exactly unless I could see; but some- 
thin’ rather tall.” 

“Something that will make me look taller, I 
reckon,” said Camilla. 

“Yes ; you are not as good a height as your sis- 
ter was. She was more slender, and looked more 
stylish when she was a girl.” 

“She is just as tall as she was when she was a 
girl, and just as slender — more so, I reckon. I 
don’t see why you don’t just say that I am not as 
stylish as she is.” 

“When a girl gets married it don’t make so 
much difference ’bout her looks. Nobody thinks 
very much about her looks then; and if they do 
it don’t make any difference.” She pressed the 
articles in the trunk with both hands. 

“If I can manage to piece out my height with 


202 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


tall hats until I get married, afterwards it won’t 
matter if I wear sailors or what sort, and people 
do find out just how short I am.” She heaved a 
mock sigh while she selected handkerchiefs to 
carry with her. '‘How delightful it must be to be 
able to be yourself without any one’s troubling 
over it.” 

"Maybe you can catch a city fellow, bein’ as you 
won’t have a country one,” said the mother, laying 
in the waist of the Nile-green evening-dress. "You 
have certainly got fine clothes enough.” 

"Maybe I can,” said Camilla, laughing inaudibly. 
"I hadn’t thought of that.” 

"You hadn’t! Then what are you goin’ for? 
I’m certain I haven’t worked so hard and spent 
so much money gettin’ you ready just for nothin’.” 

"Mother, I thought you knew I was going to 
see what there is to be seen, and have a good time 
in general. If any young men happen along, I 
expect I’ll enjoy their society.” 

"Oh, yes. I’m not afraid that you will not enjoy 
yourself. But what I’m talkin’ about is how much 
good it’ll do. If you’d a been lookin’ out for any- 
thing worth while, you would ’a’ stuck to Bruce 
Turner.” And her head went back, and her chin 
came down over a blue silk waist which she was 
placing in the trunk. 

"Mother, if I’ll catch a city beau, you won’t ever 
say Bruce Turner to me again, will you?” 

"If he’s as good a catch as Bruce; but you’ll 
never do it — not as good a one.” 

"That’s to be proven; and, mother, would you 
have me marry him when I’m not ready to marry 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


203 


anybody? Maybe I’ll get ready to marry some 
day, most women seem to ; but I’m not ready yet, 
and it don’t seem as if I would be very soon.” Ca- 
milla selected some neckwear to put in her trunk. 

‘‘You could ’a’ held on to him. If you never 
catch his like again, and you never will, don’t 
you blame me for it, for I have done everything 
I could to make you take the straight stick in the 
cane-patch.” Then Mrs. Morgan rose, looked at 
the articles on the table, and asked, “Are these 
all?” 

“This makes all.” Camilla placed the bow of 
scarlet satin ribbon beside the handkerchiefs and 
neckwear. 

“Where is your bow of scarlet chiffon ? It looks 
better than the ribbon does, and you seem to 
think you can’t get along without one or the 
other.” 

“I don’t know exactly,” replied Camilla, “and I 
reckon I never will know.” She thought, “It 
never came back with my letters.” 

“You lost it?” 

“I dropped it.” 

“Thinkin’ of some fun or other, I reckon.” 

“No, ma’am, I was not!” declared Camilla. 

“Well, lay out your umbrella so you won’t for- 
get it,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Never mind, you 
are busy. I’ll get it.” 

She took it out of the lower drawer of the 
dressing-case, and put it on top. Moving the pin- 
cushion, she disclosed an edge of a purse. 

“Take your pocket-book and go ask your father 
for your money.” She picked up the purse and 


204 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


handed it to Camilla. “He's down about the ice- 
house. I must go see about dinner." 

Mrs. Morgan went down-stairs, and Camilla fol- 
lowed. 

There was a long level stretch between the back 
gate of the yard and the ice-house. A Jersey calf 
grazed thereon. 

As Camilla passed, the calf looked at her, and 
then ran on in front a short distance and stopped 
as if waiting for her. When she came near him 
again, he ran ahead as though he would provoke 
her to run after him. But Camilla was in no mood 
for creating fun for herself after so homely a fash- 
ion. So she picked up a stone and hurled it with 
all her might. She saw that she had not hit the calf, 
but she did not know that she struck Mike Maloney, 
who was at work on the ice-house. 

Camilla found her father on the opposite side 
of the house from Mike. 

“Father,” she said, “can you give me my money 
now?” 

“I thought you wasn’t goin’ till mornin’?” 

“I’m not, but I want to be good and ready.” 

“That’s right, that’s business. That’s like your 
ma. 

“Very like my ma,” thought Camilla, “for she 
it was who sent me here.” 

Mr. Morgan placed several bills in Camilla’s 
hand. 

Camilla examined the money. “Father,” she 
said, “I want to see everything worth while, you 
know. I want to go to the theatres and one place 
and another; besides, mother told me to get a 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


205 


few things. I’m not caring though to spend much 
money on anything except sight-seeing.” 

“Somethin’ that will do you some good; that’s 
right. I’ll go to the house and give you more.” 
And as he walked along with her, he thought, 
“She just as well have it now, I reckon, and better 
too than marry some no-account man and let him 
squander it.” 


“Give me your pocket-book,” said Mrs. Morgan 
in the early part of the afternoon. 

“If you have something you want to give me, 
I can put it in,” answered Camilla, whipping up a 
rent in her glove. 

“Camilla, bring me your pocket-book,” de- 
manded her mother. Mrs. Morgan looked up 
from the waist which she was trying to finish to 
put in the trunk. 

Camilla got up, dropped her gloves and spool of 
thread in her chair, and went leisurely up the 
stairs. 

She opened her purse, took out a bill, and laid 
it in her trunk. Then she thought, “That won’t 
do, for she’ll ask father.” Replacing the money, 
she went down-stairs and handed the purse to her 
mother. 

“Why! what does he mean?” said Mrs. Mor- 
gan, spreading the bills upon her lap. “You don’t 
need all this.” 

“But then I might,” said Camilla, examining 
the fingers of her other glove. 

“I don’t know how nice hats sell there, that’s 


2o6 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


so” said Mrs. Morgan, thoughtfully. She stared 
through the window, holding a bill between her 
fingers. want you to get you a stylish one 
now, and look your best while you are there. 
There comes your sister now.” She returned the 
money to the purse and dropped the purse in Ca- 
milla's lap on her way to meet Nina. ‘‘Ain't you 
cornin'?'' she said, observing Camilla's unaltered 
position. 

“She knows the way,'' thought Camilla. “No- 
body comes to meet me when I come home. I 
reckon a daughter lays down her good looks when 
she marries, to take up other weapons.'' She scur- 
ried away to meet her sister. 

“Aunt Milly, we's come to tell you good-by,'' 
said little Annie, when Camilla stooped to untie 
the child's bonnet-strings. 

“Papa said tell you he hoped you would have a 
good time,'' said Joel, slinging his hat to the floor. 

“No, he never,'' corrected little Annie; “he said 
he hoped you 'ud joy yourse'f.'' 

“Well, that's the same thing, enjoy yourself and 
have a good time, ain't it. Aunt Milly? Annie, 
you don't know,'' Joel said disdainfully. “He sent 
you a bib or somethin'. Aunt Milly.'' 

“Sent it to me?'' asked Camilla, surprised that 
Alvin should send her anything. 

“It's not a bib a-tall,” said little Annie ; “it’s a 
collar.'' She ran to fetch the present. 

“Well, it has a somethin' bangin' to it that looks 
like a bib,'' remarked Joel. 

Nina went to the foot of the bed, where she 
had put the package. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


207 


“You know Alvin brought on a few of these/’ 
she said, as she broke the string around the paper. 
“He told me to bring you one ; he thought maybe 
you would like it while you were away.” 

“He didn’t?” said Camilla, expressing astonish- 
ment. 

“Yes, he did. He said you had been like an 
own sister to him. He seems to appreciate you 
very much of late.” 

“Now he doesn’t!” And the truth of the situa- 
tion flashed upon Camilla. She experienced some- 
thing akin to a pang of conscience, for she knew 
that Alvin construed her behavior as kindness to 
him. 

Taking the collar and looking at it, she re- 
marked : 

“It’s pretty; very pretty.” 

“You could wear it for a bib when you’ve got 
on your Sunday clothes, couldn’t you?” said Joel. 
“But all that lace hangin’ down there is worse’n a 
necktie. I’m glad I don’t have to wear it. Come 
on, Annie, let’s go out-doors.” Joel grabbed his 
hat and left the room. 

Little Annie followed, swinging her bonnet in 
her hand. 

“Tell Alvin he’s clever,” said Camilla to her sis- 
ter. “I’m very much obliged to him. I know, 
though, I don’t deserve it.” 

“I know you don’t either. I know he doesn’t 
know you ; nobody does but me.” 

“Ah, indeed!” said Camilla, laying the collar 
and jabot on the bed. “Am I so intricate a prob- 


208 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


lem, Mistress Crane, that only the wise can solve 
me ?” 

“Stop! or you shan’t have my brocaded sash 
which I brought to lend you.” 

“Brocaded sash! Where did you get a bro- 
caded sash? Let me see.” 

Nina unrolled a bundle from which the rich, 
broad ribbon fell into her lap. “Here it is,” she 
said, unfolding the sash and holding it out. 

“Exquisite! I had forgotten about you having 
that, or I would have borrowed it before.” 

“No, you wouldn’t. I just lend it to you now 
because this is a special occasion.” 

“I remember how well you looked when you 
wore that,” said Mrs. Morgan. “You were just 
about Camilla’s age.” 

“And size,” suggested Camilla. But no one 
heeded her, and Nina said: 

“But don’t act the fool in it that I did. I had it 
on when I promised to marry Alvin.” 

“No, ma’am, I won’t,” remarked Camilla, dryly. 

“She means for you to be more careful about 
what kind of man you become engaged to,” said 
Mrs. Morgan, looking in her lap for her spool of 
thread. 

“Not only that, but — ” Nina observed her 
mother narrowly, and Camilla interpreted the 
pause to mean, “be careful not to promise any, 
but I don’t dare to say it just now.” 

Mrs. Morgan filled the pause with : 

“Let your sister see which veil you better wear 
on the train — the blue or the black.” 

“Why, the black,” decided Nina. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


209 


“That’s what I told her,” said the mother, “but 
she wants to wear the blue.” 

“Black it will have to be, then,” said Camilla. 
And she thought: “I know as much about it as 
Nina does, but mother always consults her when 
she consults anybody. I’ll have to marry to in- 
crease the value of my opinions, though my looks 
won’t count for anything then.” 

Camilla’s line of thought was interrupted here 
by the entrance of her father. Mr. Morgan said 
to Nina: 

“I never saw you when you drove up. I didn’t 
know you was here until the children come down 
where I was at work.” He sat down in a chair 
by the door. 

“What are you working on to-day, father?” 
asked Nina. 

“Why,” and he hesitated between a smile and a 
look of vexation, “I’m trying to fix up the ice- 
house. Mike Maloney promised to do the work, 
but he left at dinner-time, saying he couldn’t come 
back again. I don’t know what made him quit. 
I’ll have to get out in the mornin’ and hunt up an- 
other man.” He rose, turned to the children, and 
said, “Are you going back with me ?” 

Joel signified his assent by running in front, 
and little Annie said, “Yes, sir.” 

Mrs. Morgan followed her husband to the back 
porch. “C. D., how come you to give Camilla so 
much money?” she asked. 

“Well, you never told me just how much to give 
her,” he replied. 

14 


210 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


‘^Did she say anything about a hat?^^ 

“She just said that you wanted her to buy some 
things.” 

“Was that all?” 

“That was about all she said about buying. 
Why?” 

“I just wanted to know if she had anything else 
in mind — somethin’ that I didn’t know anything 
about.” 


Camilla left home very early. So after getting 
on the train, she unwrapped a ham-sandwich and 
made her breakfast of it. Then she wadded the 
paper, and tried the car-window. Finding that 
she could not raise it, she leaned back in her seat. 

A young man, who sat just behind Camilla, 
reached over, saying, “Allow me?” And he en- 
deavored to lift the sash. 

As Camilla noted the sallow face above the 
drooping shoulders of the small figure, a look of 
merriment came into her eyes with the thought, 
“If I couldn’t do that, I know you couldn’t.” 

He saw the gleam, and misread it as an invita- 
tion to acquaintanceship. But as Camilla subse- 
quently rested her head against the back of the 
seat and closed her eyes in utter indifference to 
her surroundings, really desiring to piece out her 
morning nap, the young man saw no clear way to 
cultivate her. 

Finally he went to the front end of the car. He 
stared through the glass in the door as though in- 
terested in the oscillatings of the car before him, 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 211 

when his thoughts were upon the girl behind him. 
At length he turned sidewise and observed her look- 
ing toward him. He next sat down on the front 
seat and fixed his eyes upon her. 

Camilla turned her head and looked out of the 
window. Then she slipped over and got her face 
behind the woman just in front of her. 

The young man, thinking that perhaps he had 
been mistaken, took a newspaper from his pocket, 
and for a time buried himself behind it. 

The train sped on. 

Camilla moved from behind the head, and upon 
noticing that the young man held a paper in front 
of him, smiled at his devised screen. And as she 
smiled he sought the continuance of the article 
which he was reading, and upon seeing her smile, 
he smiled in return. 

Camilla moved back behind her screen and the 
young man put up his paper and began to read. 

The situation appealed to Camilla's sense of 
humor, but she looked out of the window, and 
thought of her home and of the restraints that for 
some time she had fought against. 

“If I were a boy," she thought, “mother would 
think it was all right for me to get out into the 
world and try it a little for myself. But as I am 
a girl, I must not begin to exercise my individu- 
ality until I marry, and then I never can!" The 
handle of the umbrella, which she held in her 
hand, fell against the window frame. “If I could 
be myself in my own way, I wouldn't be bad," she 
thought. “I don't want to be bad. Father once 
had a horse which was the best of animals when 


212 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


he had on his own bridle. He had more endurance 
than most any other animal on the farm. But 
when another bridle was put on him, he wouldn’t 
work. He was even known to rear and plunge at 
times. I just want my own bridle, that’s all. I’m 
old enough to have it.” 

The train entered a tunnel, and when it came 
out the young man raised his window to let out 
the smoke. He thrust out his head and looked up 
and down the track. As he drew himself back 
within the car his eyes dwelt on Camilla’s face. 

‘‘She has a capacity for fun,” he thought, “if 
she’s a mind to exercise it.” Then he fell to ex- 
amining his finger-nails. 

Camilla saw the young man look at her, but she 
did not move behind her screen. With unaltered 
expression she looked straight at him and then at 
the framed notice to passengers above his head. 

He placed his paper before his face and then 
let it fall, and looked to see if she observed his 
movements. But at length he thought, “It’s no 
use.” 

When the train arrived at Cincinnati this young 
man was the first of the passengers to get off. He 
met a friend on the platform and shook hands with 
her. 

“Glad to see you back,” said May Phillips. 

Presently Camilla stepped off the train, carry- 
ing a bandbox, an umbrella, a small hand-satchel, 
a box with two cakes of butter in it, which her 
mother had sent to May’s mother, and a bunch of 
chrysanthemums tied on the top of the box, for 
May. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


213 


“So glad you got here/’ said May, striking Ca- 
milla on the shoulder, and holding herself at a 
distance to keep from crushing the bandbox while 
she kissed her. Then she said, “Miss Morgan, 
allow me to present Mr. Howard Tune.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


On Saturday night Alvin Crane went to the 
post-office and brought away a letter for his wife. 

Upon going home, he pulled off his coat, hung 
it on the back of a chair in the bed-room, and re- 
monstrated with Nina because she sat up to sew 
some buttons, which she had hitherto forgotten, 
on Joel’s jacket. 

When morning came, Alvin put on his Sunday 
clothes, leaving the coat which was worn during 
the week, still hanging on the chair. Now, Nina 
found a soiled handkerchief in an outside pocket, 
and her letter in the inside pocket. 

As she hung the coat in the closet, she said, '‘I 
wonder when it came. Ain’t it like a man?” 

The man who represented men to Nina entered 
at the opposite door. Noting what his wife held 
in her hand, Alvin said : 

‘T wanted to tell you that there was a letter in 
my pocket for you.” 

‘‘You did? Well, I wouldn’t have supposed so.” 

“I just forgot it,” he confessed, selecting a 
handkerchief from the top drawer of the chiffonier. 

“Why, you never forget anything, do you?’' 
She remembered the talk about the buttons. 

“What does Camilla have to say? It’s from 
her, isn’t it?” 

Nina tore off the end of the envelope, and sat 
down near the window. She read a .few minutes, 
smiled, and said: 

“Camilla says she got there, bandbox, butter. 


AMONG TUB MBADOWS 


215 


flowers, and all. When she went down in the city 
opposite the big windows, she says, she felt as if 
she was just beginning to live. It is very pleas- 
ant at Cousin Nannie’s, but she expects to go 
down in town as often as she can just to expe- 
rience the sensation of living.” 

“Who ?” asked Joel. He and little Annie were 
entering the room. They saw through the win- 
dow their mother reading the letter. 

“The letter is from Aunt Milly, saying she’s 
having a good time,” said Alvin. 

“Are you glad of it, papa?” asked Joel. 

“Yes; I hope she will enjoy her visit.” 

“Are you glad of it, too, mamma?” 

“It’s all right, I reckon. There is nothing to 
hinder her from having a good time that I know 
of. If I were in her place, I could. I’m sure ; but 
I never expect to have any more good times.” 

“Why not, mamma?” asked Joel, earnestly. 

“’Cause you don’t play any?” asked little 
Annie. “We’ll let you play with us ’most as much 
as papa does.” She laid her head in her mother’s 
lap. 

“Get away, child!” Nina rose, and pushed the 
little one from her. 

“Run on out into the sitting-room,” said Alvin. 

“Ain’t you cornin’ ?” asked little Annie. 

“I don’t believe mamma wants to have a good 
time,” said Joel, as he and little Annie left the 
room. “It don’t seem to me like she ever tries 
to play.” 

“Nina,” said Alvin, when the children were out 
of hearing, “you oughtn’t to give way to such re- 


2I6 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


marks before the children. You do it so often. 
It's not best for them. If you are miserable your- 
self, don’t ruin their lives with it. Don’t! Try to 
exercise some self-control before them anyhow.” 
He strode up and down the floor with his hands 
clenched behind him. 

'‘When did you turn preacher, Mr. Crane ? It’s 
a strange doctrine that what I do hurts them, but 
what you do does not. At least I suppose that’s 
what you think from the way you have acted in 
the past.” Nina tossed her head, returned to the 
closet, took out a dress-skirt, and laid it across a 
chair, saying, “I’m going to church to-day. I 
suppose you’ll go, of course, Mr. Preacher, unless 
you are good enough already.” 

“No, I’m not going; but I hope you will learn 
there something about the influence of a wife 
upon her husband.” 

“You could learn something about the influence 
of a husband upon a wife,” retorted Nina, taking 
the waist of her dress from a hook, and examining 
it. “This is not fit to wear, but it is the best I 
have.” She concluded with a sigh, and then 
placed the waist on the chair with the skirt. 

“Nina, think of the effect on the children of 
your being at daggers’ points with me all the 
time. They’ll grow up, and go to ruin.” Alvin 
stopped near the window. 

“Dike their father. I don’t know what will be- 
come of the children, sure enough. I do all I can. 
There is Annie’s dress now, all patched and 
darned, but she’ll have to wear it.” She threw the 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


217 


article on the closet floor to await to-morrow^s 
washing. 

Joel pressed his nose against the window-pane, 
and called to his father to come on. 

As Alvin opened the door, Nina asked: 

‘‘You say you are not going?’’ 

He turned, stared at her, and then replied : 

“No, I am not going.” 

“Then I’ll leave the children with you.” 

“All right.” And he slammed the door. 

“It looks as if they would be left to me for life ; 
that is, the training of the higher part of them,” 
he thought, as little Annie wound her arms around 
his leg, and Joel called again, “Come on, papa.” 

“What is it?” the father asked, following Joel 
and thinking: “I am not fit to bring up these 
children the way they ought to be brought up. If 
their mother would only show as much concern 
about the quality of their minds as she does about 
the quality and cut of their clothes, there would be 
some chance. But she has never done it, and it 
looks as if she never will. Who is there then to 
do it but me?” 

The three arrived at the coal-house. 

“How many of them are there?” asked Alvin. 

“Three,” replied Joel, touching first one and 
then the other of the wee kittens with a stick. 
“One for papa, one for Annie, and one for me.” 

“Don’t,” said little Annie; “you’ll hurt ’em.” 

“No, I won’t. Let’s take this one.” Joel picked 
up the white kitten. 

“That’s papa’s,” said little Annie, extending her 


2I8 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


arms for the cat; “that's the prettiest. I wish it 
was mine." 

“You may have it," said the father, stooping 
and watching the baby stroke the soft body. 

“I wants you to have it, but I wish the others 
was white too." 

“What color are they?" asked Joel. 

“Gray. Put it back, son. It's too young to take 
away from its mother. Wait till they are older, 
then you can play with them." 

“Cats ain’t like chillun then, I reckon,” said 
Joel, returning the kitten to the mother-cat. 
“Chillun don’t mind leavin' their mother." 

“No; but they do their papa, don’t they?" said 
little Annie. And she caught her papa's hand and 
kissed it. 

“Mustn't talk that way,” said Alvin. Then he 
thought, “How can I help it?" 

“May I play with the white kitten when you are 
not here ?" asked little Annie, still clinging to her 
father's hand. 

“You may have it for yours, baby. Papa would 
just as soon have a gray one.” 

“No; I wants you to have it. I loves you so 
much. It's so cute, ain't it?” 

“How much you love me?" asked the father, 
lifting the child in his arms. 

“Better than anybody except Jesus," she an- 
swered, squeezing her papa's head. 

“Except Jesus. Do you love Him better?" 

“Don’t you know you told us to?" she said, 
somewhat astonished. 

“Did I?" he asked. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


219 


‘‘Yes, sir; you did,’’ replied little Annie; %ut 
to tell you the truth, papa, the truth, I loves you 
’most as much. Not quite, though, ’cause He 
does things sometimes that you won’t do.” 

“Maybe I can’t.” 

Little Annie looked thoughtful. 

“What does He do that I won’t do ?” asked the 
father, as he walked through the yard. 

“Well, sometimes we asks you to bring us 
something and you says ‘No.’ Then we tells Je- 
sus to please send it to us. He does it, and ’most 
always sends it by you. Does He ever come 
down from Heaven, papa, and give it to you?” 

“No, baby, no,” said Alvin, sitting down on a 
rustic seat where the sunshine fell upon him. 

“Ain’t he good? Of course I loves Him for 
it,” said she, laughing, and sliding from her father’s 
knee to the ground. “You would love Him, too, 
if He would do things for you, wouldn’t you, 
papa?” She patted Nep, who had settled himself 
on the grass hard by. 

“Well, He has already,” said Joel, who lay on 
the ground, trying to look at the sun without 
blinking. “That hurts my eyes.” He turned on 
his elbow. “Annie, don’t you try it,” said he, as 
little Annie stretched herself on the ground to 
look. “It’s sorter like sin : it ’most puts my eyes 
out, while it don’t seem to hurt Mr. Sun a bit. He 
keeps on a shinin’ just about as hard as ever if not 
a little harder.” 

Alvin leaned over and searched for a stick to 
whittle, saying: 


220 


AMONG run MBADOWS 


“Why don’t you quit then if it hurts you ? And 
why shouldn’t little Annie do it if you do?” 

His heart gave an answer of a deep meaning to 
his questions. “I am by them as he is by little 
Annie. I wouldn’t have them do it, but I don’t 
turn my back on the hurtful and look the other 
way.” He pulled his hat over his eyes and whit- 
tled the stick. 

“What are you makin’?” asked little Annie, 
resting her head against the dog. 

“Heave him alone,” spoke Joel, “he’s thinkin’.” 
And he plucked a handful of grass and tossed it on 
Nep. “He’s thinkin’ about how many things Je- 
sus has done for him, I reckon. How many has 
He, papa? — when you get through thinkin’ about 
’em.” He remembered then his rebuke to little 
Annie. 

Joel plucked other handfuls of grass and threw 
them on the dog. 

“Don’t he look funny?” said little Annie. “A 
green dog with a black head.” 

“Don’t look much like that to me,” said Joel. 
“It’s just a big bundle of grass with a dog’s head 
stickin’ out; and it won’t stick out long.” He 
scoured around and threw grass on Nep’s head. 

“Quit,” said little Annie; “he don’t like that.” 

The dog bounded up, shook off the grass, and 
jumped upon Joel. 

Joel defended himself with another bunch of 
grass, and then ran off a short distance with the 
dog following him. They played in this manner 
until the child grew tired. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


221 


He returned to the seat where his father still 
sat whittling. 

“Have you thought ’em all up yet?” he asked. 
“Don’t, Nep, I’m tired,” he said, pushing away the 
dog. 

“All of what?” asked Alvin. 

“All the things Jesus has done for you. I know 
it’s a heap, but I thought maybe you’d had time.” 

“Why do you think it’s a heap?” 

Joel dropped on the ground near. 

“ ’Cause he’s done a lot of ’em for me, and I’m 
just a little boy. I know it must be more for a 
grown man. You see, I just wear short pants 
now. As I get bigger. I’ll need longer ones, and 
you’ll give ’em to me. I reckon I’ll need more of 
the bigger things that Jesus will give me too. 
What does He give grown people, papa?” 

“You wouldn’t understand now,” said Alvin, 
evasively. 

“No, I reckon not. Annie is littler than me, 
and she don’t understand everything that I do, 
not everything. But maybe I could understand 
some things if you would tell me. Grown people 
ask for better things than chillun do, don’t they?” 

Alvin did not answer, and Joel continued : 

“Ain’t it a good thing to have a Jesus to go to 
for things ? Ain’t it though ?” He looked up into 
his father’s face and waited. 

“Yes,” said Alvin, shuffling his feet uneasily. 

“What does grown folks ask for? Just tell me 
a little.” 

“I expect you had better get up off the ground, 
you’ll take cold,” said Alvin, rising. 


222 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


'‘Where you goin^?” 

“Into the house.” 

“Come on, Annie, we are goin' in,” called Joel. 
For little Annie had gone to peep at the kittens. 

“It’s just as cute,” said she, as she joined her 
father and brother. “I wish all of ’em was white. 
I wish they was.” 

“You take the white one for yours,” urged the 
father, pressing the little hand which he held. 

“No, no, I loves you too much.” She withdrew 
her hand and ran into the house. 

When Alvin entered the sitting-room, he picked 
up his newspaper, seated himself near the end 
window, and tried to read. 

The children played about the room. At length 
each built a play-house of blocks. 

“Daisy wants to come to see yours,” whispered 
little Annie, going to Joel’s house with her doll in 
her hand. 

“All right.” 

Little Annie stood her doll at the door of the 
playhouse, lifted its hand, and knocked with it. 

“Come in!” called Snowdrop, through Joel. 
I’m so glad to see you. Have a seat.” 

And little Annie placed Daisy on a tiny chair 
similar to the one on which Joel’s doll sat. 

“Won’t you sing some for me?” asked Snow- 
drop, after a short time. 

“Well, yes’m,” replied Daisy; “but can’t you 
sing some for me?” 

“Joel, it’s Snowdrop’s place to sing first,” said 
little Annie ; “she’s at her home, you know,” 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


223 


“That won’t make any difference. Sometimes 
they do that way, and sometimes they don’t.” 

“Well.” And little Annie walked Daisy to the 
toy piano, lifted her own sweet baby voice, and 
sang: 

“‘Though I forget Him and wander away, 

Still He doth love me wherever I stray ; 

Back to His dear loving arms would I flee, 

When I remember that Jesus loves me. 

“ ‘I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 

Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me; 

I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 

Jesus loves even me/"' 

Little Annie turned her head, and saw her papa 
drop his paper on his lap and fold his hands over 
it. She said to Snowdrop : 

“I would like to hear you sing now.” Then she 
stood her doll on its feet and walked it back to 
the chair which it had first occupied. 

Joel then walked Snowdrop to the piano, placed 
her on the chair in front of it, and banged the 
hands of the doll on the keyboard. 

“ ‘It was there by faith.’ 

“What does that mean, papa, Tt was there by 
faith’?” He looked at his father, who had rested 
his elbows on his knees and had buried his face 
in his hands. “He is just tryin’ to think it up, I 
reckon,” remarked Joel, upon waiting a moment 
and receiving no answer. “Come on, Annie, let’s 
sing ; or. Snowdrop, you ask Daisy to sing this one 
with you. It’s about ‘Ring the Bells of Heaven,’ ” 


224 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Well.” And little Annie walked Daisy to the 
piano, stood her by it, and the two children sang : 

“‘Ring the bells of heaven! there is joy to-day, 

For a soul returning from the wild; 

See I the Father meets him out upon the way, 
Welcoming His weary, wandering child. 

“ ‘Glory 1 glory 1 how the angels — ’ ” 

“Children, come here,” called Alvin. He 
thought, “God hears their prayers, I know.” 

“What you want, papa?” asked Joel. 

“Kneel down.” And little Annie dropped on 
one side of her father and Joel on the other side. 
“Now tell God that papa is sorry that he ever did 
anything wrong, and he wants Him to forgive 
him, and help him to be a good man. Tell him, 
both of you.” 

“God, papa is sorry that he ever was bad,” said 
little Annie. 

“When he was a little boy,” spoke up Joel. 

“Don’t ’member the wrong things he done, 
God,” pleaded little Annie. 

“I know you won’t, God, ’cause we’ve asked 
you not to,” said Joel. 

“Papa is so good now, God, and we loves him 
so much,” spoke the baby. “We knows you do to, 
’cause you love even little chillun.” 

“He wants you to help him to be good like Je- 
sus,” said Joel. “He’s gooder’n any man now, 
but he just wants to be still gooder, God. I know 
you will let him, ’cause you always lets us be as 
good as we want to be. Papa wants to be good 
worser’n what we do, for we’d rather be bad 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


225 


sometimes if we wasn’t afraid you wouldn’t do so 
many things for bad chillun. You’ll help him to 
be good, won’t you ? Course I know you will.” 

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then Alvin 
put his arms around the children and drew them 
upon his knees. 

‘'Why didn’t you ask him yourself?” ques- 
tioned Joel. 

‘T did,” replied the father, “and papa means to 
be a different man from this on.” 

Alvin heard little Annie whispering behind her 
hand: 

“God, please, we don’t want no other man for 
our papa.” 

“Papa just means, baby, that he will be a better 
man,” said Alvin, smiling, and pressing the little 
one closer to him. 

“Course you will now after we asked God to 
help you,” said Joel. 

He slipped from his father’s knee, wet his finger 
in his mouth and marked on the window panes. 
He became interested in his employment, and 
therefore did not see his mother as she came from 
church. He did not know that she had returned 
until little Annie said: 

“What made you come back so soon?” 

“So soon ! The service was unusually long 
to-day. Yes; your papa would let you do just 
anything. Joel what do you mean?” She removed 
her gloves. 

“Why, mamma?” 

15 


226 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


“Don’t say, Why?’ — marking on that window; 
you know.” 

“I didn’t know it would make any difference. 
It makes it look like a lot of little bits of panes, I 
think.” 

“I never can have anything decent. Nobody 
ever tried any harder I know.” And she crossed 
the room and slapped Joel’s jaws soundly. 

“Now, Nina, that will do,” said Alvin. “I ought 
to have noticed, but I didn’t; and the child didn’t 
know, I suppose. If he did, like all other children, 
he just forgot at the time. It was not real mean- 
ness. I wouldn’t do that.” 

“No; of course you wouldn’t. I know that. 
You wouldn’t correct your children, but you 
would find fault with your wife on every occasion !” 
And she switched herself out of the room. 

“We will clean it off son,” said Alvin, after a 
silence broken only by Joel’s sobs. 

Alvin brought a damp cloth and wiped off the 
marks, some of which had been made in the form 
of crosses. 

“I won’t do it any more,” said Joel. “I wouldn’t 
’a’ done it that time if I had thought.” 

“Well, the window is all right now,” said Alvin. 

And Joel expressed his gratitude by a cheery 
smile. 

Alvin’s quickened ears harkened to undertones 
in the current of his course that he had never 
heard before. “Perhaps God means for me not 
only to endure resignedly, but to shoulder the 
cross of bringing her to Him,” he thought. “If it 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


22 ^ 


is my cross, should I not take it up, looking up at 
the Father somewhat as Joel looked up at me?” 

He stepped into the bed-room and dried his 
hands on a towel. Then he went to the closet 
where his wife was hanging up her dress which she 
had worn to church, put his arms around her, and 
said : 

“Nina, let’s live better than we doj more as we 
used to. I know I haven’t done right, but I have 
taken a new start to-day, and I mean to stick to it. 
Be your old self again, won’t you? Let us live 
happily ?” 

“Be my old self! You keep on blaming me, do 
you? That sounds like a new start. Staying at 
home here, too, reading newspapers when you 
ought to have been at church.” 

“Sometimes the Lord brings right out of 
wrong; He’s done it to-day, Nina.” 

“Never mind that, Alvin Crane.” She disen- 
gaged herself from his embrace. “I’m not swal- 
lowing any of your pious talk. I told father to- 
day that I would be out there to-morrow to stay 
a while. Mother’s not well, and Camilla’s away. 
You can be as pious as you want to be when I’m 
gone, but I don’t want to hear anything else about 
it now.” 

Alvin left the rootn, thinking, “She makes me 
feel like being as mean as the Old Scratch him- 
self.” 

He strolled toward the flower pit. This the 
children used as a playhouse when the flowers 
were out. There he found them then. 

“Come down the steps here,” said Joel. 


228 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


^'That’s our hall,” spoke little Annie. 

Alvin descended, and then said : 

‘‘Children, ask God to keep papa from doing bad 
when he wants to do bad.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


Nina found her mother in the garret. Mrs. 
Morgan wore a black cloth around her head, a 
small black shawl about her shoulders, and a pair 
of blue woolen gloves. 

“Why, I thought you were sick,'' said Nina. 
But she knew well the ways of her mother, and did 
not wait for an answer. “House-cleaning?" she 
continued. “I didn't think it was time for that 
yet." 

“It won't be long before we’ll need the stoves. 
You know I always begin at the garret and go 
down. I like to commence early 'nough to push 
my work, and not have my work push me. How 
are you all to-day? Come here, children, and tell 
grandma howdy.” Mrs. Morgan stooped to kiss 
Joel and little Annie. 

“We are all about as usual. Alvin thinks he’s a 
little different, but I don't." 

“Well, don't stand there in the dust; go on 
down-stairs. Maria, stop a minute till your Miss 
Nina gets away.” 

“Grandma, what’s this?" asked Joel, waving a 
long brush. 

“That's an old fly-brush." 

“Did these great big greenish blue eyes scare 
the flies away?" 

“Oh! ‘great big greenish blue eyes.' Do you 
know what they are? They are pea-fowl feath- 
ers." 

“Are they? Can I have them?" 


230 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Yes.” 

“Can I have this?” And little Annie held up a 
large doll which she had taken from a doll cradle 
in one corner of the room. 

“That’s Aunt Milly’s. She’s been hidin’ it from 
you all this time. You can take it down and play 
with it if you won’t break it. Aunt Milly thinks 
more of that than ’most anything she has, I be- 
lieve. Go on now. I want to finish up here before 
it’s time for Maria to stop and go ’bout dinner. 
You intend to stay several days, don’t you?” 

“What’s in here?” asked Joel, touching a large 
box. 

“That’s just some old clothes packed away, 
that’s all.” 

“And this ?” He laid his hand on a barrel. 

“That’s some more old things.” 

“Give me this,” said little Annie, taking up a 
broken dish. 

“I reckon you just as well have it, for it’ll never 
be any more use.” 

“Is this a bedstead, grandma? There’s a chair 
with one leg broke, I do believe ! I wish I had it. 
I’ll give you the fly-brush for it. More things.” 
Joel looked about him. “I think I like the garret 
better than any of the rooms.” 

“Go on, children,” said Nina. “Grandma wants 
to sweep.” She gathered up the skirt of her dress 
in one hand. 

“But the clock, how am I goin’ to take it ?” said 
Joel. 

“Did grandma say you could have it?” asked 
Nina. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


231 


“No’m; but she looked like I could, I think/’ 

“Mother, must I take it?” called Nina, pitching 
her voice in a high key, endeavoring to penetrate 
the cloud of dust that was beginning to rise. 

“Yes, let him have it.” 

Then Mrs. Morgan bore down upon her broom, 
and said to Maria, “Sweep this way.” 

Nina and the children descended the stairs, and 
went to Mrs. Morgan’s room. 

Tittle Annie rejoiced her mother-heart by rock- 
ing the doll in its cradle and ministering to its 
many imaginary wants. Joel examined the clock. 

Later, when Mrs. Morgan entered the room in 
search of a hearth-broom, she stopped in front of 
the boy, and said admiringly : 

“What a child.” 

“You wouldn’t have let me do that,” Nina re- 
marked. 

“You never wanted to.” 

Nina knew that there was a difference in the in- 
dulgence, but she only requested: 

“Let me help you when you get down in the 
other part of the house. Maybe there is some- 
thing that I can do now, is there ?” 

“I’m just fixin’ to put up the stoves. I don’t 
think there is anything much that you can do.” 

“I reckon I can help with whatever you are do- 
ing. Children, you stay right in here. I’m just 
going up-stairs with grandma.” 

“Yes’m,” answered little Annie. Joel did not 
hear. 

“Which room is it?” asked Nina. 

“The room over the parlor, the company room. 


232 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


1^11 get that off my hands first. If you will help, go 
get an apron and put it on.” 

“It doesn^t make so much difference about this 
old dress. Maybe, though, Td better, for I’m not 
getting any new ones now.” Nina went down the 
back stairway, a door of which opened into the 
dining-room. 

As she reached the bottom step she heard hur- 
ried movements in the closet. Then she saw 
Maria come out and disappear through the door 
leading to the porch. “She’s no business in 
there,” thought Nina. 

She went to the closet and found the top of the 
pickle jar half off. “Maria’s been into that,” she 
thought. She got an apron from the shelf of an- 
other closet in the room, went back up-stairs, and 
reported her discoveries to her mother. 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Morgan, “I know she does 
such things. But I don’t dare say a word, or she’ll 
pick up and leave.” And Mrs. Morgan tossed 
back her head and brought down her chin, as if 
not to say a word meant more than any person 
could well realize, unless it was one of her own 
flesh and blood. “Ever since Camilla went away,” 
she ran on, “she’s been talkin’ ’bout goin’ off on 
a visit. You know she tries to keep up with 
Camilla. The other Sunday evenin’ I went out in 
the kitchen for somethin’ or other, and there she 
set.” Mrs. Morgan thrust the hearth-broom into 
the flue, drew it out, and continued: “I thought 
of course she was gone like she always is of a Sun- 
day evenin’. I said to her, 'Maria, what’s the mat- 
ter ?’ She answered me, 'Oh, nothin’, ’cept I’m 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


233 


tired of niggers, I done told Charley I never 
wanted to see him ag’in. If I go out among 'em 
this evenin’, he’ll think I come purpose to see him.’ 
You see she has got wind of Bruce not cornin’ to 
see Camilla any more. Ridiculous, ain’t it?” 

“I think it is.” Nina picked up a piece of the 
stove-pipe and handed it to her mother. 

“If I would make her a little mad she would be 
sure to go. So that’s why I say I don’t dare say a 
word to her about the pickles. Help’s gettin’ to 
be awful. There, give me the other piece of pipe.” 

“When did you bring the stove from the gar- 
ret?” 

“I had Jim do that this mornin’. Carryin’ stoves 
up and down steps is too hard work for women.” 
The mother and daughter shoved back the stove a 
short way, and the stove-pipe fell into position. 

“Tots of annoyances in life, ain’t there? Lots 
of ups and downs. What was that you said about 
Alvin when you come in? Let’s go ’cross to 
Camilla’s room and put up the stove in there 
next.” 

On her way through the hall, Nina stopped at 
the door which opened just above the front door 
down-stairs. She saw Joel swinging from an apple 
tree. 

“I told him to stay in the room,” said she, as she 
turned. “Joel,” she called when she reached the 
walk, “didn’t I tell you to stay in the room?” 

“No’m; I didn’t hear you.” 

“I’ll teach you how to tell stories to me, if your 
father is the pious member of the family,” said she, 
breaking off a switch. 


234 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 


“Tick, tick, tick,” said Joel, swinging sidewise. 
“Fm playin’ like the tree is a clock, and I am the 
ticker.” 

“I’ll show you what you are. You are a bad 
boy.” And the switch lashed the small legs. 

“Mamma, I didn’t know,” he pleaded. 

“Don’t you tell me that any more.” She 
marched him back to the room. “Annie, didn’t 
you hear me say for you to stay in here ?” 

“Yes’m,” replied little Annie, rocking her doll. 

“There now!” 

Nina left the child to sob out his distress. 

Joel- crept back under the bed where the 
shadows fell heaviest about him, and, down on his 
hands and knees, whispered to the Throne of 
Grace : 

“God, you know I didn’t know ’bout it. It hurt, 
too.” Tapping his breast with his fingers, he said, 
“But somehow it hurt down in here worse’n it did 
my legs.” And he sobbed heavily. “God, I don’t 
want to do it, but papa told us one time when peo- 
ple done bad to us we must pray for them. I want 
to do what’s right, so God, please help her — ^help 
her to be good, God.” He stretched out on his 
stomach and dried his tears. Then he turned over 
and pressed his feet against the bed-springs. At 
length he whispered: “Thank you, God. I feel 
better now.” 

Soon afterwards, little Annie saw her brother 
scouring from under the bed on his stomach and 
knees. 

“You done it, didn’t you?” she asked. 

Joel nodded his head. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


235 


“I wish God would hurry up and make her 
good, so she wouldn’t whip us, don’t you?” little 
Annie said. 

Yes,” answered Joel, sitting down by the clock, 
“when I oughtn’t to have it.” 

Nina, in the room above, complained to her 
mother that her children did not love her as chil- 
dren ought to love a mother. But she did not ex- 
amine her own life to find out if she was in any 
way to blame. 

“You just imagine it because you have to whip 
them,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Somebody has it to 
do, of course. Their father don’t, not often, and 
so you have to. You haven’t told me yet what it 
is about Alvin. This is such a quick-heatin’ stove. 
Let’s move it over a little more in the corner. 
You know what Camilla says ’bout this stove?” 

“I have forgotten.” 

“She says that it reminds her of a little old ugly 
woman, who sets at home and sends great, strong 
sons out into the world to make it a better place 
to live in. When she’s tired and cold, she likes 
to set here by it, but it’s so unattractive she’s glad 
again to leave it.” 

“That is what Alvin wants me to come to, I 
reckon. He wants me to sit down in the corner, 
and just touch the world again through the chil- 
dren. He thinks that’s all the right a woman has 
to the world. I wish you could ’ve heard him 
talk. I wish you could!” 

“I’m glad I didn’t if it was like that. What 
right has he to come down on the mother, I would 
like to know ?” 


236 


'AMONG THB MEADOWS 


“That’s just what I thought; but he thinks he’s 
goin’ to be mighty good now.” 

“He don% does he?” 

“That’s his talk, and it makes me mad too. He 
ought to be thinking about making some money 
to take care of the children on, and his wife, too, 
for that matter, instead of preaching to me in that 
style.” 

“I think so ! I haven’t any patience with a man 
who talks so good and does so little himself. I 
believe in livin’ right and all that, but I want 
somethin’ to show for it; that’s my doctrine.” 
Mrs. Morgan’s head went back and her chin came 
down as she finished her work about the stove. 

Then laying the sooty hearth-broom in the coal- 
bucket, and going toward the door, she said, “Now 
we’d better quit till after dinner.” 

Early in the afternoon Nina looked out and saw 
a woman on horseback trying to close the road- 
gate. “Some one’s coming,” she called to her 
mother, who was washing a window in Camilla’s 
room. 

“What did you say?” Mrs. Morgan peered 
through the window. 

“Some one’s coming.” And Nina rubbed the 
pane briskly. She was washing the windows in 
the guest-room. “You go down, and I’ll finish 
the windows,” she said. 

“Oh, pshaw!” said Mrs. Morgan. “I wish 
she’d a come some other day. It’s somebody that 
ought to be washin’ her own windows, I expect.” 

“It’s Miss Helen,” said Maria, from the depths 
of the other window in Camilla’s room. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


237 


‘'Maria, haven’t you finished that window yet?” 
Mrs. Morgan asked. 

“Yes’m, ’most. I just got the lower sash to 
wash now.” 

“You wipe your hands, and go invite Miss 
Helen into my room, and tell her I’ll be in 
directly.” 

“I oughtn’t to begrudge the time I give to that 
poor child, I know,” said Mrs. Morgan, stopping 
at the door of the room where Nina was. “You 
come on down.” 

“I’ll be down after a while. You go on.” 

Nina finished her window. She was washing 
Maria’s lower sash when the girl came in. “What 
kept you so long?” she asked. 

“I likes to look at pretty ladies. Ain’t she 
pretty though? Miss Milly ain’t nowhere by the 
side of her.'' 

“Why, I thought you considered Miss Milly 
about right in every way.” 

“About dressin’ and sich, she is mighty fine.” 

“Well, come on here. Mother won’t think you 
have worked very fine this afternoon if you don’t 
get about it. Let’s go into the back room now.” 

Nina did not appear in the room below as soon 
as her mother expected her. So Mrs. Morgan 
observed : 

“If men was as industrious as women are, there 
would be less trouble in the world.” 

A voice from the hall said: 

“What’s that?” 

“Come in, C. D., and see Helen.” 

“That’s what I’m going to do. I thought that 


238 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


was the captain’s horse, and I didn’t suppose that 
he had gone to riding a lady’s saddle. How are 
you ?” He sat down at the end of the bureau and 
laid his hat on top. 

After Helen had spoken, Mrs. Morgan re- 
marked : 

‘'She was just sayin’ that her pa and ma made 
her come this afternoon. Ain’t she a good girl? 
I see us havin’ to make our girl go somewhere just 
for pleasure.” 

“Helen deserves a first-class husband, I think,” 
said Mr. Morgan; “or no husband at all, if what 
you was telling her is so.” He looked at his wife 
and smiled. 

“I didn’t know you was out there.” 

“Yes, I know. It just give me a chance to hear 
how you talk to my back.” And he laughed. 

“I wasn’t meanin’ you, C. D.,” spoke Mrs. 
Morgan, seriously. “I was just talkin’ ’bout the 
men that ain’t industrious, or what amounts to the 
same thing, who have wives that are. If you are 
so particular, your faults are a different kind.” 
Her fat sides jostled with laughter. 

“They are, are they? Well, then, I don’t be- 
lieve I’m particular about Helen hearing anything 
more concerning them. At this rate, I don’t 
think what you would tell her would raise me any 
in her estimation.” He ran his long fingers 
across the bald spot on his head and chuckled. 

“What’s so amusing?” asked Nina, upon enter- 
ing the room. “Are you well?” She kissed 
Helen. 

“Very well, I thank you. It’s your father and 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


239 


mother who are suffering ; they are attacking each 
other/' 

‘‘What’s the matter with father and mother?” 
And Nina looked from one parent to the other for 
an answer. 

“Oh, nothin’ a-tall, nothin’ a-tall,” spoke Mrs. 
Morgan. “Your father is just tryin’ to make 
somethin’ out of nothin’.” 

“That’s a right nice thing to do. It might be 
a good thing for me if I’d inherited more of my 
father’s ability in that way.” 

“Or if somebody else had had some ability to 
make somethin’ out of somethin’, even, and had 
kept from bringin’ disgrace on his wife who does 
try to do ; that’s what I meant a while ago.” 

The smile died out of Mr. Morgan’s face. He 
leaned against the bureau and sighed. 

“A girl embarks on a perilous sea when she 
marries,” said Nina; “she certainly does.” And 
she closed her lips tight as if she had produced 
an argument that could not be refuted. 

“Is Camilla enjoying her visit?” asked Helen, 
hoping to direct the course of thought into a dif- 
ferent channel. 

“To be sure she’s enjoyin’ it,” said Mrs. 
Morgan. “Camilla ought to think more ’bout 
somethin’ substantial than she does. If she did 
she wouldn’t a lost the best catch in the country. 
That she wouldn’t !” 

“Did he flirt her, I wonder?” thought Helen. 

“But then we old folks can’t have it all our 
way,” spoke Mr. Morgan, with a degree of cheer- 
fulness. 


240 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


'"Then she didn’t want him,” thought Helen. 

“Men are so uncertain,” said Nina, thinking of 
her own experience. 

‘'"Then he must have flirted her,” thought Helen. 

“Are you very busy now on the farm?” asked 
Helen, looking at Mr. Morgan, and hoping to be 
more successful this time in dispelling the gloom. 

“The ice-house is bothering me more just now 
than anything else,” replied he, coming down on 
the front posts of his chair. “I hired Mike 
Maloney to fix it up. But he just barely com- 
menced it, and then quit, and I never did know 
what for.” He leaned back then against the 
bureau. 

“C. D., move over this way,” said Mrs. Morgan, 
in an undertone. 

“I can’t get anybody to finish it,” said Mr. 
Morgan, with evident concern for the annoyance, 
wholly unmindful of his wife’s request. “Every- 
body else seems to be busy just now.” 

“C. D., move over this a-way,” said Mrs. 
Morgan, somewhat louder. 

“Why, what’s the matter with this? This is 
good enough, ain’t it?” He came down again on 
the front posts of his chair. 

“That’ll do, but the other won’t.” 

“Won’t?” 

“C. D. thinks it’s awful if he can’t get help ’bout 
his work. It’s all right though for me to rub all 
the marks off the bureau that he chooses to put 
on.” 

“Where’s Maria? Why can’t she do it?” 

“Maria !” Turning to Helen, Mrs. Mor^ar\ 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


241 


said, ‘‘Don’t you know, she’s been talkin’ ’bout 
goin’ off on a visit ever since Camilla went away? 
Help’s gettin’ to be so triflin’.” 

Helen thought as she had no servant whatever 
she must not stay too long. 

Mr. Morgan got up to leave the room, and said : 

“You’d better let me put up your horse, and 
you spend the night with us.” 

“I couldn’t do that,” replied Helen. “I must 
go soon.” 

When Helen was ready to leave, Mrs. Morgan, 
Nina, and the children followed her to the stile. 
Seeing them, Mr. Morgan left his work to get 
Helen’s horse. 

“I’m sorry about this, Helen,” he said. “When 
I come out of the house, the calf had got through 
the gate and was chewing the skirts of your 
saddle.” 

“My riding-skirt will cover that,” replied she, 
as one accustomed to receiving trials in the most 
gracious way. 

“But he chewed the other side too,” said Mr. 
Morgan, aggrieved, without knowing in what 
manner to accept the situation. 

“There,” said Mrs. Morgan, pulling out a fold 
of Helen’s riding-skirt as if that act was the only one 
which the occasion demanded at her hands. 

“It is chewed,” declared Nina, when the horse 
moved from the stile, displaying the far side of the 
saddle. 

Helen rode away, thinking, “I wonder if my 
being but a poor, respectable girl had anything to 
16 


242 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


do with their revealing to me what they did this 
afternoon? I wonder if they would have shown 
their real attitude toward their trials if I had been 
a person of position? 

‘‘I had never thought of it before, but that 
house is built in the shape of the letter T, and T 
stands for trouble. 

“They all endure their trials in a different way. 
Cousin Cliff accepts his with despairing courage, 
and fails, it seems to me, to draw any spiritual 
strength out of them. Cousin Jenny walks over 
hers with her eyes closed to the fact that she can 
get any personal lesson from them. Cousin Nina 
takes her position toward her trials, holds it, and 
she would die, it seems, before she would yield it. 
It’s a privilege to see facts as they are. But my 
visit for pleasure this afternoon was just a visit 
with no fun tagged to it, as Uncle Dan would say.” 

A man on horseback drew near. Helen looked 
up and saw Uncle Dan. 

“ ‘Speak of an angel,’ ” said Helen ; “but this 
time it was but to think and he appeared.” 

“You wasn’t thinkin’ of me shore ’nough, was 
you ? What’s the matter with yer saddle ?” 

“A calf chewed it.” 

“Bad, ain’t it?” 

“It’s owing somewhat to the way I take it, 
whether it’s very bad or not, I suppose.” 

“I reckon you think ef you set on it like a angel, 
people will look at you an’ not at the saddle. 
While you kin come ’bout as nigh doin’ that as 
anybody kin, unless it is yer paw, the calf marks 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


243 


does show, Miss Helen, an’ they’ll keep on a- 
showin’.” 

“Trouble of every kind does, Uncle Dan, if we 
look at the trouble, and not at what it can do for 
us.” 

“You air too deep fer me. Miss Helen; rather, 
you air too high fer me to retch you. ’Tis a pooty 
sight, though, to stand on the ground an’ watch 
you sail among the clouds. Is that sorter of a 
little life-boat what you air a-lowerin’ fer Uncle 
Dan?” 

“I had in mind some personal experiences and 
some observations ; but if you’re in need of a life- 
boat, Uncle Dan, I hope the little skiff will serve 
you.” 

“Thankey, Miss Helen. Yer paw said to me 
not long ago that it ’peared like my occupation — 
fishin’ an’ huntin’ — would give me plenty o’ time 
to think o’ the hereafter. I reckon it does, but 
somehow or ’nother my thoughts ’as never gone 
overmuch in that direction. You have been to 
Mr. Cliff Morgan’s, have you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

But Uncle Dan believed that Helen seemed in- 
clined toward thinking and not talking. So they 
traveled the short distance that remained with the 
exchange of only a few words. 

When they arrived at Helen’s gate, Uncle Dan 
opened it for her and closed it behind her with 
somewhat more soberness in his demeanor than 
was his wont. 

Helen found her mother preparing to lie down. 


244 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


“She thought she would see how well she could 
do while you were away,” Captain Morgan said. 

“There now, are you comfortable?” asked 
Helen, lifting her mother’s feet to the bed and 
drawing a quilt over them. 

“Yes,” said she, faintly, and closed her eyes. 

When supper was over, and the dishes put away, 
Helen sat down by the little table in her mother’s 
room to sew.. 

“Move that chair a little,” Mrs. Morgan said; 
“the light shines in my eyes.” 

“Do you want to undress now so that you can 
go to sleep?” Helen asked, as she complied with 
her mother’s request. 

“Not yet. I wake up before the night is half 
gone, and it seems so long till day. It’s awful to 
lie that way so much. Awful!” Mrs. Morgan 
put her hand to her face and closed her eyes. 

“I know it is bad,” said Helen, sympathetically. 

“You don’t know anything about it. Nobody 
does except them that has gone through with it.” 
Mrs. Morgan opened her eyes, waved her daugh- 
ter away, and then shut them again. 

Captain Morgan came in and sat down by the 
side of the bed. He watched Helen as she 
stitched away busily, and wondered what she was 
thinking about. 

“Mother’s trials are severe,” Helen thought. “I 
know they must be. If I were in her place per- 
haps I wouldn’t endure them as well as she does. 
It’s too bad, though, that she just bears the brunt 
of the onslaught and does not permit herself to 


AMONG THE MEADOWS ^ 245 

be lifted by it.’’ She turned up the lamp-wick, 
and then continued: 

“Father has accepted his lesson, rather he ac- 
cepts his daily lessons, and realizes an increasing 
beauty and strength of spirit from them. 

“We are not through with lessons when we 
leave school. But the world becomes our book, 
or a very small corner of it sometimes, and God 
our teacher. And it’s only when we come under 
His guidance that we have any assurance our 
lessons of life are properly learned.” Helen 
rested her elbow on the table, and held her needle 
still in her fingers for a minute. 

“Is your Cousin Jenny takin’ up any carpets?” 
asked Mrs. Morgan. 

“Not that I heard of.” 

“She took them up in the spring, I reckon. 
Nina is not goin’ to stay till Camilla gets back, is 
she ?” 

“I reckon not, but I don’t know.” 

“We’d better get off to bed, don’t you think?” 
said Captain Morgan, turning to his wife. Then 
looking back at Helen, he thought, “Whatever it 
is, it imparts both sweetness and strength to her 
face.” 

“Put up your sewing, daughter,” he said, drop- 
ping his suspender from his shoulder. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Three weeks later Uncle Dan rode over the 
pike with a game bag around his neck and a gun 
on his shoulder. He journeyed several miles for 
his day’s sport. Upon reaching the woods in 
which he wished to hunt, he hitched his horse, and 
tramped into the depths of it. 

The dry leaves of the oaks and hickories rustled 
under his feet. The wind busied in switching 
many of the remaining leaves from their boughs, 
fluttering them in circuitous routes to the ground. 

When dinner-time came. Uncle Dan seated him- 
self on the root of a white-oak near a spring. He 
leaned against the tree and commenced to eat. A 
gust of wind stirred the leaves at his feet. Per- 
haps the breezes brought to him these thoughts: 

“That life-boat what Miss Helen spoke of keeps 
a-floatin’ before my eyes. It seems like Captain 
Morgan and Miss Helen air both a beckonin’ me 
to git in. It’s a-botherin’ me!” He gathered up 
the scraps from his lunch, and threw them into the 
rill which trickled away from the spring. 

Then he went to the spring and drank from it. 
“Ah!” he said, lifting his head. He stooped and 
drank again. “That’s a better way then all the 
dippers and goblets what was ever made,” said 
he, staggering to his feet. “It makes me think of 
the spring on paw’s ole farm — the one I uster 
drink out of when I was a boy. It’s more like it 
then any water I’ve drunk in many a day.” 

Heart-throbs set up. He seemed to hear his 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


247 


mother’s voice, and then a vision of the life-boat 
floated before him. “What is it?” he thought. 
“I ain’t a-goin’ to die, shorely? I’m too young a 
man fer that yit.” 

He took up his gun and roamed through the 
woods. But for the first time he felt no interest in 
hunting, and so he decided to go home. As he went 
toward his horse, he saw a covey of birds. He 
shot several, and then dropped them into his game- 
bag, thinking: 

“Mrs. Morgan ’ud like ’em mebbe. She’s nearer 
death, too, then anybody I know of. I reckon it’s 
all right ’bout gittin’ into that life-boat, but ef the 
Lord wants me. He’ll save me in some miraculous 
style.” 

He tramped to his horse and rode away. 

Drops of rain began to fall, and Uncle Dan’s 
thoughts turned again to the life-boat: “Suppose 
the elements ’ud force me to take it, or go down? 
But shorley the Lord would raise a tide and float 
me in in a grander fashion.” 

Hail followed the rain. Uncle Dan drew the 
collar of his great coat more closely about his 
neck. The horse, pelted by the hail-stones, trav- 
eled at a rapid gait. 

A barn-shed loomed up, and Uncle Dan rode 
toward it. 

Two men waited beneath, driven thither from 
the neighboring fields by the storm. 

“Right smart little hail,” spoke one of these 
men, Jim Carter. 

“Not as much, though, as I have seen,” said Ed 
Tucker. He turned to Uncle Dan, and asked: 


248 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


“You remember, don’t you, when the hail fell as 
big as a hen’s egg? That was in the spring, I be- 
lieve.” 

“I remember,” replied Uncle Dan. 

“I was out in that,” remarked Jim. 

“You was?” said Ed. “Wasn’t the life ’most 
beat out of you?” 

“The Lord don’t seem to come to physical re-- 
lief by raisin’ tides an’ floatin’ into safety,” Uncle 
Dan seemed to hear. 

“Got fur to go?” asked Jim. 

“Good piece when it’s hailin’,” replied Uncle 
Dan; “not fur when it’s fair. Don't you know 
me? I’m Dan Richardson.” 

“I knowed you as soon as I saw you,” said Ed. 

“Oh, it’s Uncle Dan!” spoke Jim. “I know 
you now.” 

“I lived by yer maw when you was a lad,” said 
Ed. “I was some younger then you. We lived 
in the little house at the foot of the hill, but I ex- 
pect you’ve forgotten about it.” 

“I remember you,” said Uncle Dan. 

“Yer maw was a pow’ful good woman, that she 
was.” Ed drew a piece of tobacco out of his 
pocket and bit off a chew. 

“What’s all this about to-day?” thought Uncle 
Dan. 

“She spoilt you, though,” Ed said, with a laugh. 
“She never made you work none ; but you was all 
she had.” 

“Whoa!” said Uncle Dan. The hail continued 
to fall. 

“My maw us’ter send me up to yer house fer but- 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


249 


termilk. Onct when she sent me up there, an’ yer 
maw gimme a big heapin’ bucketful, I sez to her, 
‘Well, Miss Richardson, I don’t know what we’ll 
ever do fer you fer all the things what you’ve done 
fer us.’ I reckon I wouldn’t ’a’ thought so much 
about it, but I had jes’ got up from a spell o’ sick- 
ness. While I was sick, she fetched me somethin’, 
or sent me somethin’ nearly ever’ day. I couldn’t 
’a’ been very ole, I reckon, but I remember ’bout 
it. I’ll never fergit it.” 

“Whoa!” Uncle Dan said again. 

“Yer maw sez, ‘I don’t want no pay, unless it 
’ud be some day or ’nother ef my boy should need 
help o’ any kind. Then ef you’ll do him a turn, 
you’ll be a-payin’ me back with intrust.’ ” 

“Whoa!” said Uncle Dan, though Ed saw no 
reason for the call. 

“I wasn’t much given to rememberin’ things,” 
the speaker ran on, “but somehow or ’nother that 
took hold of me, and I never did fergit it. I 
reckon it was because I sorter thought mebbe you 
would need help some day, fer you was a lazy 
chap.” He spat upon the ground, and grinned. 

“Whoa!” repeated Uncle Dan. 

“I don’t see now that you ever will. You air 
well fixed out there with young Turner, ain’t you ? 
But when I seen you come a-ridin’ in out o’ the 
hail, yer maw’s words come back to me. ‘Help my 
boy ef he ever needs it, an’ you’ll be a-payin’ me 
back with intrust’ ” 

“Thankey, thankey,” said Uncle Dan, with no- 
ticeable agitation, and extended his hand to Ed. 

“I ain’t done nothin’. But you always had 


250 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


some clever ways about you ef you was lazy. 
Wait till the storm is over.” 

But Uncle Dan rode on. 


“Miss Helen, here’s some birds,” said Uncle 
Dan, handing the bag to Helen at the door of her 
home. “I thought yer maw might like ’em.” 

“That’s kind of you to go hunting just for her.” 
Helen hesitated a minute for a reply, and then 
said, “Come in by the fire. You were out in the 
rain, weren’t you?” 

“Rain an’ hail too; but I won’t go in. I’ll git 
on home. How is yer maw to-day?” 

“She is no better. We have decided to have 
a surgeon come and see what he can do for her; 
some time next week probably.” 

“You air! Well, I hope she’ll be better af- 
ter’ards.” 

Uncle Dan saw that Helen looked sorrowful. 
Designing to cheer her, he remarked : 

“Don’t mek yer maw think I went huntin’ jes’ 
fer her; but I wisht now I had. Then you 
wouldn’t ’a’ showed yer woman natur’ jes’ fer 
nothin’; you had to inquire into the matter so 
pertic’lar.” 

“Now, Uncle Dan, you might have understood 
me to mean that I considered it kind of you to 
bring them at all, but especially kind if you went 
hunting just for mother. Anyway, how am I to 
find out just what I really owe unless I inquire 
into the particulars? See, my knowing is a part 
of justice.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


251 


“Your argument is sound, an’ the most of the 
things you say is sound truth.” 

“Most of the things?” And Helen laughed. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ to-day, Miss Helen — but I 
kin not talk it out here. The rain it has spoilt me 
fer cornin’ in. So I’d better go on home now, an’ 
talk some other time.” He turned away, leaving 
Helen perplexed. 


The fire roared in the grate in the dining-room. 
Uncle Dan sat before the hearth, and Bruce Tur- 
ner sat in the corner near the window, reading. 

Aunt Jane brought in the cream-jar and put it 
down in the opposite corner. As she left the 
room, she remarked: 

“Feels like winter was cornin’.” 

Bruce lifted his eyes, gazed through the win- 
dow, and said: 

“It’s going to freeze up to-night.” Then he 
looked on his book. 

Uncle Dan rose, and sat down astride his chair 
with his back to the fire. He put his arms across 
the top of the chair and laid his head on them. 

A cat purred on the hearth-stone near the 
cream-jar. 

At length Uncle Dan lifted his head, looked 
toward Bruce, and asked: “You find anything in 
there ’bout what the Lord ’ud do fer a feller ef he 
’ud turn to Him?” 

Bruce closed the book, and dropped it to the floor. 

“Well, don’t let it so onsettle you as that. I 


252 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


jes’ ast ef you found anything in that book about 

itr 

“No; why?” Bruce tilted his chair backward 
and thrust his hands in his trousers pockets. 

“I don’t know. It looks like though the best 
folks don’t git the best o’ things ever’ time. Cap- 
tain Morgan is ’bout the best man around, ain’t 
he?” 

“I believe he is.” 

“I ’ud leave have him as a parson any time,” 
Uncle Dan declared. 

“So would I,” said Bruce. 

“An’ he gits hit harder than ’most anybody else. 
He is goin’ to git a surgeon to come to see Mrs. 
Morgan, Miss Helen tole me. That’ll cost him a 
big pile o’ money. I reckon, though, it will be a 
satisfaction to them. It’s doubtful, I ’low, ’bout 
its doin’ her any good. It don’t look like the 
Lord does much fer him, does it?” 

“Well, we can’t always tell,” said Bruce. 

“Can’t always tell! Why, that’s as plain as the 
nose on yer face, it seems to me.” 

“He was prosperous at one time, you know. I 
don’t believe he was as good a man though then.” 

“I don’t either,” admitted Uncle Dan. 

“Maybe that’s the way the Lord helps,” said 
Bruce. “I don’t know that it was necessary for 
Captain Morgan, but I believe some people can 
be better poor.” 

“Mebbe so; but poverty don’t mek all folks 
good by no means. Some of the meanest people 
I ever knowed didn’t have a change o’ clo’es to 
their backs hardly.” 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 253 

‘^No; poverty alone won't do it, nor riches 
won't.” 

“It don’t seem to. But there’s Mrs. Casey, who 
is a pow’ful good lady, I think, an’ she is ’bout the 
richest around here.” 

“She’s well off, and I am like you, I think she is 
a good woman.” 

“Well, ef a feller should want to step up a bit 
toward livin’ right, how’ll he know which way the 
Lord’ll think he orter be hit to mek him still bet- 
ter?” Uncle Dan turned, facing the fire. 

“Which way?” 

“Whether the Lord’ll think a feller orter git 
richer or porer.” 

“Have to trust to Him for that, I reckon.” 

“But sometimes a feller ’ud like to know ’bout 
what to expect.” 

“Well, the licks come anyway, don’t they? And 
if a man is trusting in the Lord, the lick will make 
a better man of him, or help him in some way or 
other.” 

“An’ when he ain’t a-lookin’ to the Lord nothin’ 
a-tall about it, you think he jes’ gits hit without 
havin’ any cure ready an’ a-waitin’ fer him, do 
you ?” 

“I think it must be somewhat that way.” 

The cat rose and stretched her back, and then 
cried at the door. 

Uncle Dan got up, opened the door, and held 
it for the cat to pass out. 

“Mebbe you think I’m a-fearin’ I might git hit 
on the side of my riches,” said he, as he seated 
himself again. 


254 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


“Are you?” asked Bruce, smiling. 

“Honest, Bruce, that is it.” And Uncle Dan 
chuckled. But somehow the seriousness in the 
chuckle robbed the situation of its humor to Bruce. 

“Why don’t you ask Captain Morgan about it?” 
Bruce obtained his wares from the best market in 
trading distance. 

“It looks like he has his ban’s full of his own 
matters, but I would like to.” 

“The busiest men are always those who find 
most time to do anything worth while for some 
one else. It’s that way in everything.” Bruce 
picked up his book and began reading, but the 
note of seriousness still rang in his ears. 

By and by. Uncle Dan moved nearer the fire, 
and said: 

“Bruce, boy, ef you had been hit pooty hard, 
say like a girl dingin’ you over, or somethin’ like 
that, would it mek you a better man, or would 
some good or ’nother come out of it fer you, you 
think?” 

“Why so?” And Bruce smiled without expe- 
riencing a desire to smile. 

“Because I ’ud like to know ef that is the way 
you think shore ’nough.” 

“It ought to be that way, I reckon.” 

“But do you jes’ think it orter be that a way, or 
is that yer act’al experience? I ain’t astin’ out o’ 
jes’ idle curiosity, boy; it might help a feller to 
know. We hear a good deal ’bout the way things 
orter be, but air they jes’ that a-way?” 

“I think it must be that way with some people. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


255 


Captain Morgan, for instance. I don’t believe 
that he ever has a stroke of any kind which doesn’t 
go toward makin’ him a better man. But mine — 
well, I don’t see actually where there is any good 
coming out of it for me. And it hasn’t made me a 
better man that I know of, or that anybody else 
knows of, has it?” 

Uncle Dan waited a minute, and then smiled 
and said: 

‘‘Yourn is not so hopeless as you think mebbe. 
Helen Morgan is a finer girl then Camilla — much 
finer. Now she's one what ’ud spend money on 
principle.” 

‘‘Is that all?” Bruce rose, walked out on the 
porch, and looked toward the mound of the scarlet 
bow. 

Uncle Dan stared on the bed of red coals, think- 
ing : “When a feller shore ’nough loves a girl, he 
loves her faults too, looks like. But I don’t see 
why he can’t git over it — bein’ it’s the other fel- 
ler.” 

Then he got up and threw on a lump of coal. 


CHAPTER XX 

‘‘I can’t live much longer like this,” said Mrs. 
Morgan. She drew one arm from under the cov- 
ering and picked nervously at the counterpane. 

know I can’t. I’m gettin’ worse. I can tell I 
am whether you all see it or not. Just from one 
day to the next I can’t see any decided change, 
but the difference in my condition now and that of 
last spring is very marked. The cool weather has 
come — the time when the doctor thought I would 
get better.” She stared at the whitewashed wall. 

“When the operation is oyer you will get 
strong and well again,” said Captain Morgan. 
“Just think of being able to go about as you used 
to.” Then he lifted the small, thin hand in his, 
and stroked it gently, thinking : “Suppose she 
does not live through it? Horrible! Is she ready 
to face her God ?” And he looked at her anxiously. 

She turned her head, and her eyes rested on 
him. 

“What are you thinkin’ of?” she asked. 

“Of you.” Then he hesitated, wishing to tell 
her his thoughts without giving her unnecessary 
alarm. 

“I know,” she said ; “it’s all right. It was you 
who directed me to Him where I obtained pardon 
and assurance of recovery.” 

“Pardon and recovery!” 

“Yes; I’m sure I will live through it. After the 
operation was decided upon, it seemed to me there 
was only a little way to go — with peril at the end. 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


2S7 


But somehow all the prayers I had heard you 
make, and all the things you had said to me about 
God and Heaven rushed upon me, and forced me 
to pour out my troubles to Him. The way lighted 
up, and I promised God if He would let me get 
well that I would serve Him with my whole heart 
the rest of the journey. The road then seemed to 
get longer, and I received assurance that all would 
be well. Each day since I have known it just as 
surely. All this seems too sacred to talk about, 
but I wanted you to know it.” 

Captain Morgan kissed his wife’s forehead, and 
his face shone with joy. 

“To-morrow, isn’t it?” Mrs. Morgan said. 
“Just to think that this is the last day that I will 
have to suffer. I suffer less already thinking of 
the health that I shall enjoy.” 

Helen entered the room. Her eyes were swol- 
len with crying, but she tried to speak cheerfully 
when she asked: 

“I wonder if he wants nothing whatever left in 
the room?” 

“Leave the table; they will need that, I expect,” 
replied the captain. 

“There’ll be enough of us to furnish the room 
sufficiently,” said Mrs. Morgan, brightly. 

Helen wondered at the smile on her mother’s 
face. 

“Cheer up, child,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I’m 
the one who will undergo the operation, not you.” 

“I believe that you are actually looking forward 
to it with pleasure,” said Helen,- showing surprise. 

17 


258 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


‘‘Who wouldn’t, child, if they thought they had 
only one more day to suffer?” 

Helen burst into tears, and left the room. 

“Call her back,” said Mrs. Morgan. 

Captain Morgan went to Helen in the cold 
bare parlor, whose walls echoed as he spoke : 

“Your mother wants you; come to her.” 

“Don’t, dear,” said Mrs. Morgan. “I know 
that I’m goin’ to get well. The Lord has assured 
me of it. I would not say so if I did not believe it. 
Don’t grieve. You need your strength for other 
things.” 

Helen stooped and kissed her mother. Then 
she went out, thinking, “Is it because she is so 
near the other world that she is talking so ?” But 
she was comforted. 


When the morrow dawned, the surgeon arrived 
with Dr. Grose, the family physician, and Dr. 
Clark, another physician of the vicinity. 

While Dr. Cary was laying out his instruments, 
one by one, he remarked. 

“Mrs. Morgan is very feeble. Yet there is no 
special reason why she shouldn’t stand it. It’s 
the best thing to do, I’m convinced. She would 
just continue to grow worse.” 

“You think she would, then?” said Dr. Grose. 
“That was just my opinion.” 

'‘Oh, yes; there’s no other way. Hold this.” 
And he placed an instrument in Dr. Grose’s hand. 
“Is there anything that I can do?” asked Dr. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


259 


Clark, going near the table, tying the great white 
apron around him. 

^‘You can thread this needle,” answered Dr. 
Cary. ^^Nobody knows what she has suffered,” 
he continued, as he dried an instrument which he 
had just washed. 

'^Thread these needles with what?” asked Dr. 
Clark. 

And Dr. Grose laughed. 

'‘With this silk,” replied Dr. Cary, soberly. 
“She’s cheerful, isn’t she?” And he dried another 
instrument. 

“How you cornin’ on. Doc. ?” asked Dr. Grose 
of Dr. Clark, who toiled strenuously at threading 
the needle. 

“This is not in my line, you know. There !” At 
last Dr. Clark drew the thread through. 

“You’ve never done much surgical work, then?” 
said Dr. Cary. 

“Not much.” 

“Who are these people?” asked Dr. Cary, tak- 
ing another instrument out of the case. 

Dr. Grose related what there was to relate con- 
cerning Captain Morgan and his family. Then 
said : 

“Why, you don’t try to keep up with the people 
as well as their ailments, do you ?” 

“No; but these strike me as being a little un- 
usual.” 

“Captain Morgan is a mighty good man,” re- 
marked Dr. Grose. “There is no mistake about 
that. Miss Helen is a fine young woman, excep- 
tionally fine, and Mrs. Morgan has suffered so 


26 o 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


long. Want this now?’’ He handed the instru- 
ment to Dr. Cary, who held out his hand for it. 

‘‘Everything is ready,” said the surgeon at 
length, placing a hand on each hip and carefully 
viewing the table. 

“Captain,” called Dr. Grose, tapping on the 
door opposite, “Doctor is ready now.” He went 
to the bedside, and said to Mrs. Morgan: 

“You have such a nice doctor in there; he takes 
so much interest in your case.” 

“All doctors are nice. We are always so glad 
to have them come.” 

“Well, now,” Dr. Grose said, scratching his 
head. 

“No; I’m not well now, but I’m goin’ to be. 
You needn’t count on coming to see me any more 
after this.” 

“Yes; you’ll bury the rest of us, I expect. I’ve 
seen so many of these screakin’ doors.” He took 
hold of her arm to assist her in rising. 

“Never mind,” said Captain Morgan, “I’ll carry 
her.” To Mrs. Morgan he said, “Just be still.” 
He lifted her in his arms as he would have done a 
child, and carried her into the parlor. 

As he placed her upon the operating table, she 
closed her eyes and shuddered. Then she opened 
them, and said: 

“Now I know how those Frenchmen felt when 
thev laid themselves on the guillotine.” 

“Are you all right?” asked Captain Morgan, 
wishing to say something. 

“Yes, all right.” And she smiled. 

“Don’t forget. Lord,” she silently prayed when 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


261 


Dr. Clark put the chloroform to her nostrils. “I 
won’t forget.” 

Her strength was nearly exhausted when she 
came from under the influence of the anaesthetic. 
And through the early part of the night her life 
was almost despaired of. Dr. Cary and Dr. Grose 
both remained. 

Toward day Helen left the room and passed out 
of the house to the yard. She looked up at the 
millions of stars in the cloudless sky, and lifted her 
heart to Him who had the power to put them 
there, and gained new hope. The cold atmos- 
phere chilled her, and so she soon returned to her 
mother’s room, where she found her father watch- 
ing alone. 

Captain Morgan answered Helen’s questioning 
gaze in a low tone : 

“They have gone into the parlor. They said 
that all she needed now was sleep. I’ll sit here; 
you go lie down.” 

She went out noiselessly. As she passed the 
parlor door on the way to her own room, she 
heard Dr. Cary say: 

“How far is it from here?” 

But she did not hear what followed. Dr. Cary 
asked: 

“Would I be apt to find a good horse close? I 
want a roadster.” 

“You might,” answered Dr. Grose. I heard 
Turner say that he had one which he wanted to 
sell.” 

“That’s nearer than Meadowville? Turner, you 
say his name is?” 


262 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


‘'Yes, Bruce Turner, a neighbor here.” 

"Who was his father?” 

Dr. Grose told who Bruce’s parents were, and 
other important facts concerning the young man. 

"That’s the fellow, I suspect,” remarked Dr. 
Cary, taking his cigar between his fingers, and 
crossing one leg over the other. "I have a rela- 
tive by that name up in here somewhere. I’m in- 
clined to think he’s the man. I believe I’ll look 
him up.” 

"I’ll drive you up there then in the morning, 
rather this morning, if you want to go.” 

"Obliged to you. I think I’ll go. Then I can 
get on home in the afternoon. I intended to have 
got off on the last night’s train, but I decided I’d 
better stay. I think Mrs. Morgan will get along 
now by observing the proper precautions.” 

"We never settled on any price,” said Dr. 
Grose, taking his cigar out of his mouth. 

"How about the captain?” 

"Oh, he’ll pay you; but he is not able to pay 
you a top price.” 

"That’s all right. He can settle with me some 
other time. Just leave it alone now.” 

"That’s clever of you, Doctor, but he will want 
to pay you a fair price.” 

"I believe I’ll lie down a while,” said Dr. Cary, 
throwing the stump of his cigar into the fire. 
"That’s what the bed was put in here for, wasn’t 
it? But I don’t need a whole bed. You’d better 
follow suit.” 

"Go on. I don’t care to.” 

After a while. Dr. Grose went to see how Mrs. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 263 

Morgan was getting on. But finding her still 
sleeping, he went to the veranda. 

Helen came in, and Captain Morgan followed 
the doctor. ‘‘How do you think she is doing?” 
the captain asked. “I want to know exactly. Doc- 
tor ; don’t deceive me.” 

“I think she will get along now unless some un- 
foreseen trouble should arise. Oh, she’s very 
feeble, and it may be a good while before she will 
be able to sit up. It is not likely that she will ever 
be a robust woman, but she will be much better 
than she has ever been since the accident. I tell 
you, though, I was fearful at one time during the 
night.” And Dr. Grose shook his head and stared 
down on the steps. 

“Maybe if we’d had the other surgeon, the one 
we first spoke of getting, he wouldn’t have kept 
her under the anaesthetic so long, and she might 
have got along better. She has so little strength 
left now.” Captain Morgan leaned against a post, 
and Dr. Grose said: 

“I think this one knows his business. Anyhow, 
I’ve learned recently that the other man has got 
into bad habits of late years. He used to be con- 
sidered among the best in the city, and I thought 
he was still. He does do considerable practice yet. 
He can do good work when he’ll let whisky alone, 
but he’s drunk nearly all the time, they say. So 
we have done better than to have got him.” 

“You don’t tell me! You know I’ve been wor- 
ried for several days because we didn’t decide on 
the other man anyhow. I would have said get 
him in the first place, I reckon, if you hadn’t 


264 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


thought this one could do the work just as well. 
But if my wheat hadn’t spoilt, and I had sold it 
for what good wheat brought, then I know I 
would ’ve settled on the high-priced one, thinking 
then that I had done the best thing possible. 
There it is now! I declare I’m ashamed of my- 
self.” He straightened up from the post, and 
looked out into the yard. 

'‘Ashamed of yourself? You have nothing to 
be ashamed of that I know of. You were merely 
trying to make the wisest decision, just what any 
other man ought to have done.” 

“Not that. You know, Doc., ’long last summer 
when my wheat spoilt, and I thought I might have 
saved it if I hadn’t been doing what I thought was 
my duty, I felt as if the Lord hadn’t treated me 
fair. I did pluck up though and go on, because 
I knew He had brought things around all right 
before. But do you know, I worried over that off 
and on no little. My faith ought to have been 
stronger.” 

Dr. Grose smiled and looked serious by turns. 

“The Lord gives his people tests sometimes, 
and that was mine, I reckon. At least it’s served 
to reveal myself to me. You know I actually be- 
lieved I was of larger growth. I actually did. I, 
who have been talking to myself so much about 
laying up treasures in Heaven, and to others 
about being Nobodies Over There if they didn’t 
watch out. I ’ud be a pretty heir to the treasures 
Over There, wouldn’t I ?” 

“If you should quit it,” Dr. Grose said, “I don’t 
know what would become of me. For your up- 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


265 


right life and the few words which you have 
spoken to me at times have done more to keep 
me in the right way than anything else that I 
know of/^ 

“You don’t say so, Doc.? It’s good to know 
that I have helped you. It certainly is. This ex- 
perience ought to strengthen me, oughtn’t it?” 

Captain Morgan returned to the bed-room, and 
Helen left to look after breakfast. 

Then the captain knelt at the foot of the bed, 
silently confessed his shortcomings, and sought 
strength and guidance. As he rose, Mrs. Morgan 
opened her eyes, and spoke in a voice scarcely 
audible : 

“Some water.” 

As the captain passed through the hall, return- 
ing with the water, he called to Dr. Grose, who 
still stood on the veranda. 

The doctor went into the room, and soon saw 
that Mrs. Morgan’s sleep had helped her. So he 
said that he would drive up home, but would re- 
turn in two or three hours. 

“You had better have your breakfast before 
you go,” urged the captain. “Don’t disturb Dr. 
Cary. Heave him with us.” 

“I had thought I would take him, but he’s 
asleep. Tell him I’ll be back to go with him to 
see Bruce Turner; we were speaking last night 
about going. I’ll get my breakfast at home. I 
have to go anyhow.” 

Mime had assisted Helen on the previous day, 
and she had come again to help through to-day. 


266 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


The table stood in the end of the kitchen near- 
est the door and farthest from the stove. Helen 
devised a screen out of the clothes-rack by pin- 
ning strips of drapery which she had used about 
her dressing-table over the rack. With this screen 
she shut off the view of the stove and the cook- 
table. 

When Dr. Cary came out to breakfast, he saw 
that Helen had made the best of her surroundings. 
‘T knew the girl had considerable get up,” he 
thought, as he took a hot biscuit from the plate 
which the white-aproned Mime passed him. Upon 
eating of the fresh pork sausage, he remarked: 

“We never get any sausage like this in the city. 
It’s a favorite dish of mine.” 

As Captain Morgan remained in the sick-room, 
Helen was the only person at the table with the 
doctor, and she said: 

“I supposed that your market furnished every- 
thing.” 

“Oh, yes; but I’m always glad to get a meal 
in the country. There’s no mistake about the 
quality.” 

“This great man finding better things in the 
country,” thought Helen. “I hadn’t thought of 
the country as having anything worth while for 
him” 

“You thought then that the city held all the 
benefits?” the doctor said as if he read some of 
Helen’s thoughts. 

“But I believed that some of the glory of the 
sunsets must be lost through the smoke clouds.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


267 


And her cheeks grew pink at having given out 
more of her inner nature than perhaps the occa- 
sion required. 

A glint of the sunlight which she praised fell 
upon her auburn hair as if to reward her by show- 
ing the beauty of its shade. 

Dr. Cary turned his face to his plate, thinking, 
‘‘The first circles anywhere ought to be proud of 
her,’’ but what he said was: 

“You prefer the country, then?” 

“My home is in the country,” she said, simply. 

“You are fortunate. Every one is not satisfied 
with his lot.” 

“I try not to think what I would have my lot if I 
had its choosing. The best that I know to do is 
to try to fill my place the best I can. I know little 
or nothing, to be sure, about the way a great place 
in life is filled. It seems fitting, though, that it 
should be in a great way. And the greatest way 
I know is to maintain the proper spirit in filling 
one’s place. Please don’t think that I imagine 
for a minute that I reach the mark all the time, 
or even most of the time. But I think such is 
possible in obscure places as surely as it is in bril- 
liant ones.” 

“Easier, perhaps,” said Dr. Cary, experiencing 
both surprise and satisfaction that Helen should 
have uttered some of the very things of which he 
believed her capable. 

“I’m not prepared to say it’s easier, because I 
know so well the hard side of the one life. It may 
be true, though, that it is more difficult to employ 
the trappings of wealth, the luxury and ease which 


268 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


riches bring, in the development of one’s spiritual 
nature than it is to use denial and toil that way.” 

‘‘You think, then,” the doctor said after a min- 
ute, “that every person’s chief concern should be 
his spiritual interests?” 

“I think so.” The pink in the girl’s cheeks 
grew deeper because this great, wise man, as she 
regarded the doctor, should ask her that question. 

“Suppose a man is ambitious?” he said. 

“I imagine that most men of any force are.” 

“Perhaps ambition will not always permit a 
man to be loyal to his spiritual life.” 

“It’s an ambition then for self-glory, or some 
other selfish consideration. Ambition for place 
and not for character.” 

“Not wholly always. A man may wish to em- 
ploy the ends for the good of mankind.” 

“It’s sad that one with so very generous a mo- 
tive should disregard the will of the Good Master. 
‘Thy will be done’ applies to ambition as well as 
to everything else.” 

“Thank you. It’s possible to get a clearer view 
in the country of another glory than that of the 
sunset.” 

“I don’t see that ambition with a man ought to 
be any more troublesome than ambition with a 
woman,” said Helen, rising from the table. 

“You don’t?” Dr. Cary looked at Helen and 
comprehended. He then passed on out of the 
room, thinking, “I wonder who her lover is, for 
a girl like that can’t be without one, surely.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


‘Was that the door-bell?” asked Uncle Dan. 
He sat on a bench in the kitchen poking alternate 
strips of fat and lean into the sausage-mill. A 
young negro man, Tom, son of Aunt Jane, ground 
the meat into the tub below. “Faster,” said Tom, 
as the rope of ground meat grew thin while Uncle 
Dan listened for the bell. 

When the sound of the second ring died away, 
Bruce asked: 

“Have I put red pepper in this tub?” 

“You’s put de salt en de sage en de black pep- 
per in hit,” answered Aunt Jane, “but you ain’ put 
de red pepper in hit.” She stood by, arms akimbo, 
looking down upon the meat. “You’s put de red 
pepper en all in t’other un.” 

Bruce laid the big iron spoon and the sack of 
red pepper on the table. Then he said : 

“Aunt Jane, you’d better mix that tub while 
I’m gone.” 

So Aunt Jane pushed her sleeves above her el- 
bows, tightened the white rag around her woolly 
head, which showed as many white hairs as black 
ones. Then she picked up a cake of potash soap, 
took water from the tank on the back of the stove, - 
and scoured her arms and hands. 

When Bruce lifted the bar which held fast the 
double doors. Dr. Grose spoke, and then intro- 
duced Dr. Cary. 

Bruce led his visitors into the dining-room, the 
only room in the house, except the kitchen, where 


270 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


there was a live coal of fire ; and the fire here was 
below the top bar in the grate. 

After placing two chairs near the hearth, Bruce 
went to the kitchen for kindling. 

^Who is it?” asked Uncle Dan, holding a long 
strip of fat on the edge of the sausage-mill. 

The question was answered. Then Aunt Jane 
drew her arms out of the ground meat, and asked : 

“Will dey be here fer dinner?” 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“I can’t git no fitten dinner fer strange gem- 
mens dis day,” she mumbled. 

Bruce and Dr. Cary settled their relationship 
as that of third cousins. Then Dr. Grose spoke 
of Dr. Cary’s desire to see the horse. 

Before leaving the house, Bruce returned to 
the kitchen, and told Aunt Jane to prepare dinner 
for the visitors. 

The men then went to the stable, and Bruce led 
out the horse which Uncle Dan had ridden home 
on the day of the purchase. 

“I like his looks,” said Dr. Cary. “Can he go?” 

“Go? The truth of it is, that’s about all he is 
fit for.” Bruce related Uncle Dan’s adventure, 
and said that it was owing principally to Uncle 
Dan’s bad management of the animal ; for he 
.►himself both rode and drove the horse without any 
inconvenience, although the horse was somewhat 
nervous. 

“When I was a lad in the country, I could handle 
a horse,” said Dr. Cary, “and I think I can yet 
when it’s necessary.” He went to the animal and 
stroked him. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


271 


Dr. Grose looked at his watch. 

‘‘Doctor, if you have any calls to make, we’ll 
excuse you,” said Dr. Cary. “I propose to claim 
some of the privileges of kinship and invite myself 
to remain here until train time.” 

“That’s right,” said Bruce, cordially ; and to 
Dr. Grose he said, “Doctor, stay with us.” 

“I should like to stay, but I have to see a patient. 
If Dr. Cary won’t come with me. I’ll try to get 
back to the train to see him. I may fail though 
to do that, for I have a long ride to take, and so I 
will say good-by now.” 

“Let me know how Mrs. Morgan gets on,” Dr. 
Cary requested, upon shaking hands with Dr. 
Grose. 

Bruce afterwards showed Dr. Cary over the 
farm. He took him to see several head of fine 
cattle. 

When Bruce announced that he expected din- 
ner for guests, he dismissed the subject from his 
mind, leaving the bill of fare for Aunt Jane to de- 
cide upon. And she thought of it in this way : 

“Hit can’t be no turkey dinner dis day. Hit 
’bleeged to be backbone, hominy, en sasage, caze 
I has got to mix more o’ dis meat fust. I ain’ 
gwine to have Miste’ Bruce cornin’ back here, 
axin’, ‘What you been doin’ all dis time?’ Ef dat 
mon over dah wuz a wurker ! I dunno what Miste’ 
Bruce keeps ’im here fer anyhow jes’ fer me to 
wait on.” She placed a hand on the side of the 
tub and rose. 

“Tom, you hurry up dah,” she said, looking side- 


272 AMONG THE MEADOWS 

wise at Uncle Dan, intending that he should profit 
by the command. 

“I is hurryin',” replied Tom. He turned the 
handle of the machine more rapidly, and bobbed 
his head in keeping with the revolutions. 

Uncle Dan stretched his feet on the hearth, and 
gazed into the fire, thinking, 'T wonder when 
they’ll come in?” Then he leisurely laid another 
piece of meat on the mouth of the mill. 

“How long will it be till dinner is ready?” he 
asked Aunt Jane. 

“Jes’ as soon as dis yere sasage-meat gits 
grinded up en mixed. Jes’ as soon en no sooner.” 
She spoke with an air that implied, “I is de boss 
now.” She put a stick of wood into the stove. 

“Tom, rench off some more meat an’ fetch it 
here,” bade Uncle Dan. “It’s ’bout all out o’ this 
bucket.” 

Tom rose, straightened his shoulders and limbs, 
and got a drink of water. Then he brought the 
meat. 

Uncle Dan filled the mouth of the mill, and 
said: 

“Let’s work up.” 

Tom reseated himself on the wooden stool, and 
turned the crank with renewed energy. 

Uncle Dan lifted up great handfuls of the meat 
and stuffed it into the mill. In hurrying, he shoved 
in a bone, and this, followed by the vigorous 
handling of the crank, broke the mill. 

Aunt Jane declared that neither she nor Mr. 
Bruce would have been guilty of the careless, in- 
excusable trick. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


273 


Uncle Dan was preparing to join the men 
wherever they could be found, when Aunt Jane 
said: 

‘‘Dis sasage gotter to be mixed, en Tom he 
can’t mix but one tub at onct. I got dis yere din- 
ner to git what dey ain’ no eatin’ uv till hit’s all 
mixed — ever’ tub uv hit. I kin put in de seasonin’ 
jes’ ez well ez Miste’ Bruce kin.” And she has- 
tened to prove her assertion by measuring the 
pepper and pouring it on the unseasoned meat. 

‘‘But I’m tired,” protested Uncle Dan. “I 
reckon Tom ’ll git it mixed after while.” 

“Ef you kin git rested on an empty stomach, I 
is willin’,” Uncle Dan heard through the sputter- 
ing of the frying sausage. 

“Shucks! that nigger needs somebody to boss 
her,” thought Uncle Dan. “Bruce orter marry.” 
He left the room, slamming the door behind him. 
He wished her to know that her suggestions to 
him were wholly as useless as they would be to 
Bruce himself. 

He took up a wash-pan, returned to the room, 
and found that the sausage grease had quit sput- 
tering, and that Aunt Jane had rolled up her 
sleeves. 

“I sees I’s ’bleeged to mix dese sasages myse’f, 
den finish de dinner atterwa’ds,” Aunt Jane said. 
“Comp’ny er no comp’ny, I knows Miste’ Bruce 
wants dis yere wuk to be gwine on.” And she 
moved the hominy skillet to the back of the stove 
to join the skillet which held the half-cooked 
sausage for dinner, 

18 


274 AMONG THB MBADOWS 

‘'Vm fixin' to do that,” said Uncle Dan, as he 
turned the faucet of the water-tank. 

He placed the pan on the bench which he had 
recently quitted, removed his coat and vest, and 
tucked up his shirt sleeves about his elbows. 
Then he set about washing his hands and arms. 

Aunt Jane desisted from placing the skillets 
over the fire to bring a can of lye soap and put on 
the bench. 

Uncle Dan dipped the ends of his fingers into 
the soft soap and smeared it over his arms, say- 
ing: 

"‘This truck’ll take all the hide off. Shucks, ef 
it wont!” 

“Dem sleeves ain’t up high ’nough,” said a voice 
over the smoke which was beginning to rise from 
the frying sausage. 

“It’s cold weather,” complained Uncle Dan, 
pushing his sleeves just above his elbows. 

“Cou’se folks ain’ gwine to kill hogs in hot 
wedder.” The present monarch of affairs caught 
first one arm and then the other, and pushed Uncle 
Dan’s sleeves as near his shoulders as was possible. 
She then released him with the injunction, “Now 
wash ’em — plenty uv soap.” 

Uncle Dan dipped again into the can. He ap- 
plied the soap lightly to the upper parts of his 
arms, complaining inaudibly, “Well, now, shucks! 
that nigger needs somebody to boss her. Bruce 
orter marry. Ef this here hide o’ mine don’t come 
off in the sausage meat it’ll surprise me. Then 
the first feller what gits hold of a piece will be 


AMONG THB MBADOWS ' 275 

a sayin’ that I didn’t grind the sausages fine 
’nough.” 

‘‘Tom, is you ready?” inquired Aunt Jane. 
“Den you mix dis yere tub.” 

“I reckon this one better be mixed first,” said 
Uncle Dan, stooping over the smaller of the 
washing-tubs. 

“De bigges’ one,” spoke Aunt Jane, decisively. 
“Mon alive! you ain’ nuver dried dem arms.” 

“What’s the use? They’ll git all greasy ag’in 
anyway.” But Uncle Dan took the offered towd 
and used it. 

He squatted by the side of the large tub and 
stuck his fingers into the meat. Then withdrew 
them, thinking, “It’s cold. It would ’a’ been mid- 
dlin’ well ef hogs had been made without sasages 
anyhow. I’ll warn Bruce nex’ time how he kills 
hogs with much sasages.” 

“Dis de way,” said Aunt Jane, falling to her 
knees by the side of Uncle Dan, and expecting his 
imitation of her position. She laid hold of one 
arm, and drove it into the meat. “Now lif’ hit up, 
tu’n hit over, en stir hit,” she instructed. 

“You got too much red pepper in here,” said 
Uncle Dan, sneezing once, twice, thrice. 

“Dat’s jes’ de same dat Miste’ Bruce puts in.” 
Aunt Jane went about dinner, thinking: “I done 
got dat white mon to wuk fer wonst. Ef Miste’ 
Bruce wuz here he ’ud let ’im loose.” 

Uncle Dan turned the meat about in the tub, 
stifling sighs, and thinking, “It’s worse ag’in then 
choppin’ wood. When a feller gives out at that 
he kin set down fer a minute in some comfort. 


276 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


But ef I lean back on my heels at this, the miser- 
able, greasy truck a stickin’ to me won’t lemme 
feel decent an’ easy. So the shortest way out of 
it is jes’ to git through with it, I reckon.” And 
he fell to stirring in a livelier manner than Aunt 
Jane even hoped to witness. 

Talking was heard in the hall. The kitchen 
door was thrown open, and Bruce invited in the 
stranger. 

“Taws-a-massy !” ejaculated Aunt Jane in a 
suppressed voice. ^‘Miste’ Bruce fetchin’ dat fine 
gemman in dis yere greasy kitchen. He don’t look 
like he uster nowheres ’cept pa’lo’s. Laws-a- 
massy, what do he mean!” 

‘T kin not shake ban’s with you,” said Uncle 
Dan, when Bruce introduced him to Dr. Cary, 
“unless you be more willin’ to risk a slippery han’ 
then I jedge you be.” Uncle Dan noted the tall, 
slender figure, smooth-shaven face, spectacled 
eyes, and crown of black hair. “There’s a mighty 
heap indicated in the shake of the han’, an’ I’m 
above havin’ you think that I give a slippery shake 
all the time.” 

“I accept your apologies,” said Dr. Cary. And 
the three men laughed. 

“I ’spose you don’t see sech as this often, do 
you?” asked Uncle Dan. 

“That is why I asked to see this. It’s a fine 
sight. A good, wholesome employment, too, 
isn’t it?” 

“Considerin’ it from a standin’, coated attitude, 
I always thought so; but considerin’ it from a 
squattin’, or kneelin’ postur’, bare-armed and tub- 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


7 ^ 7 ^ 


diggin’, it takes on a monstrous pesky, back- 
breakin’, shoulder-twisten’ sorter look.” 

“When you finish that, you’d better quit,” 
Bruce said. “About through, aren’t you?” 

“There’s some more meat to grind; but not 
much. We broke the mill.” 

Uncle Dan appreciated Bruce’s intentions to 
relieve him, but he desired to convince the visitor 
that he was really not the slippery-handed individ- 
ual which he had denied being. So he drew his 
hands out of the meat, and thrust them into the 
other tub, saying: 

“I’ll finish the work first.” 

At this sight. Aunt Jane, in a corner behind the 
stove, opened her mouth and stood aghast for a 
minute. Then mumbled : 

“Who ’ud a thunk it? Who ’ud a thunk it?” 

At length Bruce and Dr. Cary repaired to the 
dining-room, and then Uncle Dan desisted from 
his labors with a “Whew!” He said as he rose, 
“Tom, you kin finish that.” 

“But I want Tom to mek a fire in de pa’lo’,” said 
Aunt Jane. “I ain’ gwine to be scurryin’ round 
in the dinin’-room ’fo’ dat fine gemman.” 

“Tom, you stir that, do you hear?” spoke Uncle 
Dan, as though the mantle of authority had de- 
scended upon him. “Jane, you put dinner on the 
table right away, do yovi hear?” And he looked 
toward the dining-room, as much as to say : “The 
master has returned. I know it, and you know it.” 
Then he made his toilet, thinking: “I can’t stay 
in here no longer, leavin’ the doctor thinkin’ 
mebbe I’m jes’ Bruce’s hired man.” 


278 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Tom finished mixing the sausage. Aunt Jane 
served the dinner soon. And while the men were 
eating, Tom built a fire in the parlor grate. 

The Brussels carpet which Bruce’s mother had 
used was still upon the parlor floor. The same 
mahogany furniture upholstered with hair cloth 
stood in the room. The same ornaments were on 
the mantel-shelf. The same pictures were on the 
wall. 

When Dr. Cary entered the room he looked at 
the large oil painting which occupied about half 
of the space between the two front windows. 

“That’s an excellent likeness of Oscar Taylor,” 
said he. 

“It’s my mother’s brother,” said Bruce. “It 
was made when he was about thirty-five years 
old.” 

“That’s about Oscar’s age. Do you know 
him?” Dr. Cary drew nearer the fire. 

Bruce confessed to knowing only the name, not 
the person. 

“He is just the same kin to you that he is to 
me.” Then the doctor traced the relationship for 
Bruce’s benefit. “You don’t keep up with your 
relations as well as I do; it’s my weakness. By 
the way, Oscar is a promising painter. In fact, 
he is becoming very well known in the world of 
art. He has studied in Paris several years. In- 
deed, I think he spends most of his time there.” 

“Yes; they air mightily on paintin’ an’ fixin’ 
up their houses there,” said Uncle Dan, who had 
followed into the room. I’ve been there. It’s 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


279 


twelve year ago, though, since the las^ time I was 
there. I reckon he gits plenty o' work to do?" 

Bruce said that the city was Paris, France. 
Then Uncle Dan speculated: 

“Whew! better'n ever. In a place as big as 
that they must have their houses painted mos’ 
ever’ year." 

Dr. Cary and Bruce each sat down in a chair by 
the fire, and Bruce explained: 

“It’s not houses he paints; it’s pictures.” 

“Pictur’s! Ah! You say he’s a fust-rate feller?" 
Uncle Dan turned to Dr. Cary. 

“I suppose he is. I don’t know anything to the 
contrary." And the doctor accepted the oppor- 
tunity to laugh. 

“That looks like a mighty triflin’ away of time 
fer a man. It’ll do fer a woman to fool with sech 
as that ef she ain’t got no chillun an’ she’s able to 
hire a cook. But fer a man, why, I ’ud rather fish 
or hunt." 

“He is making his work fairly profitable," said 
the doctor. “I know of his getting five hundred 
dollars for one picture." 

“Five hundred dollars ! How big was it?" 

“About a foot and a half by three feet." 

“No mistake?" 

“No mistake." 

“That beats paintin’ houses, don’t it?" Uncle 
Dan laughed at his own ignorance, and said, “I 
reckon though I better stick to the sausage makin’ 
fer a while." Then he turned to Bruce and re- 
marked, “I’ll go down to Captain Morgan’s an’ 
borrow their mill an’ finish up that part o’ the job.” 


28 o 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


He was anxious in some manner or other to re- 
instate himself in the good opinion of Dr. Cary. 

“No, you needn’t,” said Bruce. “If Doctor 
thinks he must go. I’ll call there and get it after 
the train leaves.” 

Helen answered the knock at the door. When 
she saw Bruce Turner, she supposed that he had 
come to inquire after her mother. Indeed he did 
make the inquiry. And after Helen replied there 
fell a silence, and during the time she tried to deter- 
mine what disposition to make of the caller. Mrs. 
Morgan was too ill to receive visitors in her room ; 
the parlor was still in disorder; the hall too cold 
to offer any one a chair there. So to the kitchen 
the guest was led. 

Mime was gone. Helen quickly replenished 
the fire after drawing up a chair for Bruce. 

“I haven’t time to sit down, I thank you,” Bruce 
said. “I have come to ask you to lend me a sau- 
sage mill.” 

“Sausage mill?” 

Helen went into the closet, and Bruce said: 

“We were so unfortunate as to break ours to- 
day, or so fortunate.” 

When Helen came out, she held up a small 
package, saying: 

“The knives are in here.” 

“Oughtn’t they be in the mill ?” Bruce was pro- 
voked to ask, without knowing why. 

“Well, that’s for you to decide. When I grind 
sausage, I have knives in the mill, but maybe some 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


281 


people don’t need them.” She placed the mill on 
the cook-table. 

‘‘As you advise their use, will you be kind 
enough to show me how to put them in?” 

“But I didn’t advise.” 

“Well, then, will you kindly show me how these 
knives belong?” He stepped to the table, drew 
his hands from his overcoat pockets, and opened 
the sausage mill. 

Bruce watched Helen place the knives in posi- 
tion. “Thank you,” he said, when she had fin- 
ished. “If they don’t work right. I’ll know who 
to blame.” 

Captain Morgan appeared in the doorway of his 
wife’s room as Bruce issued from the kitchen with 
the sausage mill under his arm. 

“How are you gettin’ on with the job?” the 
captain asked. 

“Not very fast.” 

“You’ve been interrupted to-day. Doctor got 
off, did he?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can’t do much good when one end of the line 
is fastened somewhere else,” Captain Morgan ob- 
served. “Can’t do it ! That’s so.” 

“Broke down,” Bruce said, looking at the mill. 
“I came borrowing.” 

“That’s right. I hope it will help you out.” 

From the front window of her mother’s room, 
Helen saw Bruce go through the yard, and she 
realized that he interested her more than she 
wished to admit. 


CHAPTER XXII 


The ground was already white, and the snow 
was still falling. 

When Helen Morgan drained the water out of 
the dish-pan into the barrel which stood at the 
side of the porch, the fleecy missiles pelted her. 
She looked through them at the oak tree near, 
and saw it arrayed as if some foster mother had 
sought to prove her tenderness by her lavish gifts. 

The snow outlined the other trees. It draped 
the picket fence which bounded one side of the 
yard, tipping the points of the pickets, and show- 
ing between them in bunches at the back. It filled 
the sunken ash-hopper. It covered the roof of 
the smoke-house. 

After looking around her, Helen returned to the 
kitchen. She shook the flakes from her garments 
and from her hair, on which the remaining par- 
ticles resembled a crown of jewels. 

Helen's life presented a beautiful, smooth sur- 
face to the world, — to her world, — but this morn- 
ing there was ruggedness beneath. As she fell to 
churning, she thought, ‘‘Am I to keep on at this 
always ?" 

At length the wind rose, and lifted great sheets 
of the snow into the air. 

Helen washed the churn, swept the floor, and 
put on some spare-ribs to cook. “Yes," she 
thought, “I have been sincere in trying to fill my 
humble position as though I were a queen dis- 
charging her queenly duties. I know I have been. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


283 


I believe though I could do better things, different 
things. I just know I could ! But why these hin- 
drances?” And she looked at the churn, the 
broom, and the cook-stove. 

She thought then of her mother. So she went 
to the room, wondering if the fire had burned low, 
and found Mrs. Morgan sitting in the large rock- 
ing-chair with her work-basket on her lap. 

Mrs. Morgan was now sufficiently strong to 
walk from the bed to the chair, and from the chair 
to the table. 

Upon seeing her mother with the work-basket, 
Helen half forgot her own troubles. 

In a feeble voice, Mrs. Morgan remarked : 

“Oh, child, I never counted on having to go 
through with all this weakness. I just thought 
I’d wake up strong and well.” Her head went 
back on the chair, and she fastened her hold on the 
little basket. 

“But, mother, you are free from pain now,” said 
Helen, encouragingly. “That is much to be 
thankful for.” She did not think of the ease with 
which the words came for her mother’s comfort, 
nor of the help that she might have got from them 
herself. 

“I hope you won’t ever have to know what suf- 
fering is,” Mrs. Morgan said. “You are so young 
yet, you can hardly understand what the word 
means.” 

Helen looked out upon the storm. 

“I wonder if father is in this?” she said. 

“He has stopped somewhere, surely,” said Mrs. 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


Morgan. “He wouldn’t try to ride through this, 
I reckon.” She spoke more feebly than before. 

Helen, noticing, said: 

“Mother, don’t you want to lie down before I 
go?" 

“Maybe I’d better.” 

Helen assisted her mother to the bed. 

“N-o-w,” Mrs. Morgan faltered, sinking on the 
pillows, holding the basket with one hand. 

Helen soon went back to the kitchen. 

After dinner, Mrs. Morgan pushed back her 
work-basket, and listened to the news that Cap- 
tain Morgan had gathered during the morning. 

Helen pleaded a headache, an indisposition that 
really existed, and went to her own room. There 
she built a fire, and sat down before it. By and 
by she rose and went to the window. She pressed 
her face against the pane as though she would peer 
through it and see what the future held for her. 

The snow had ceased falling. The wind had 
nearly quit blowing. 

At length Helen took her paints and brushes 
from the floor of her closet. And on a stout piece 
of cardboard she painted a churn, a broom, and a 
cook-stove. Beneath these she printed in red let- 
ters, “My Stepping-Stones to Heaven.” She then 
tacked the cardboard on the wall along with the 
pictures which Camilla had examined. And she 
looked at her work, thinking, “If they are my 
hindrances to material progress, I reckon they 
may be a means of spiritual exercise.” 

Next she sat down by the fire. The piece of 
coal which she threw on crackled as she thought: 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


385 


“If I use faithfully these hindrances as stepping- 
stones to larger spiritual attainments, then when 
the larger sphere opens to me, I shall be better 
prepared to fill it. It wouldn’t do to be thrust 
into a larger sphere before I’m ready for it. It 
wouldn’t do.” She knelt by the rocking-chair and 
prayed that she might keep her face turned to- 
ward the perfect life. 

After she got up she walked back and forth 
across the room, thinking: “I do want to be like 
Christ. And what did He get out of life for him- 
self? Didn’t He spend it all for others? Yes, if 
I want to be like Him it will take more than mere 
sentiment to make me so. It will take self-giving. 
Self-giving !” 

A ray of the sinking sun fell athwart the dress- 
ing-table. This led Helen to the window, from 
which she looked at the western sky aglow with 
the wonderful pink, red, and gold of a winter’s 
sunset. She thought of the beauty that she saw 
as Heaven’s benediction upon her meditations. 
She went then to discharge her evening duties. 

When she appeared in her mother’s room, Mrs. 
Morgan asked : 

“Does your head feel better?” 

“I think it does,” answered Helen. 

“Daughter,” said Captain Morgan, “I wouldn’t 
go out in the snow any more to-day. I’ll bring 
in the water and whatever else is needed.” 

“But I can do it as well as you,” protested 
Helen. 

And Mrs. Morgan looked wistfully toward her 
work-basket which she had left on the bed. 


286 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


When the work was done, Captain Morgan and 
Helen joined Mrs. Morgan around the fireside. 

As the captain knocked the remaining snow from 
the heels of his boots, he said : 

'‘We're not half as thankful for the blessings we 
have as we ought to be.” 

Helen closed her book. She wondered why her 
father had made a remark applicable to her. 

Mrs. Morgan looked again at her work-basket, 
and then leaned her head against the back of her 
rocking-chair and shut her eyes. 

“Sometimes we don’t realize how much we have 
until we compare it with what somebody else has,” 
continued the captain, tapping the heels of his 
boots against the fender. “I can’t get those little 
children off my mind. Six, I believe ; five or six. 
They were hoverin’ around the fire, and it looked 
as if the clothes of two or three of ’em put 
together wouldn’t be hardly enough to keep one 
of ’em warm.” 

“Whom do you mean?” asked Helen. 

“The McCalls, between here and Meadowville. 
The wind was blowing so hard that the snow was 
almost blinding me and my horse too ’bout the 
time I reached there. So I stopped in till the 
worst of it was over. Of course I knew before 
that they were poor, but I hadn’t thought about 
’em not having clothes enough to keep ’em warm. 
I wish we could help them some.” Captain 
Morgan lifted his feet from the fender and pushed 
back his chair. 

Helen looked on her book again, but she did 
not read, 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


387 


Mrs. Morgan only sighed. 

After a while, Captain Morgan said : 

“I wonder if there is not some way or other that 
we can help them?’' 

''None that I know of,” Mrs. Morgan said. 

"I tell you,” said the captain, turning to his 
wife, "I’m so thankful that you are getting well 
that I feel as if I must show my appreciation of it 
to the Lord in every way that I can.” 

"It’s so slow,” said Mrs. Morgan. 

"It is slow, but then you are so much better 
than you were.” 

"Yes,” admitted Mrs. Morgan. 

"It’s all right to feel thankful over things; we 
ought, to be sure. But then we ought to do things 
to show that we are thankful.” 

"I am thankful,” said Mrs. Morgan ; "but what 
can we do? I don’t know of anything. They are 
livin’ on Mr. Graham’s place. It looks like he is 
the one to help them if they need it.” 

"Perhaps he is doing all for them that he can. 
I don’t know. Whether he is or not, them children 
are suffering. And maybe after all it’s no more 
his business than mine. We ought to look at the 
need and what we are doing to relieve it. Surely 
there is such a thing as making a way if I’m as 
serious as I believe I am.” Captain Morgan re- 
mained silent for a time, and then he said : 

"Daughter, pass me the Book; we will have 
our evening worship now.” He read the second 
chapter of James. When he had finished, he re- 
read these verses; 


288 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


'' ‘If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute 
of daily food, 

“ ‘And one of you say unto them. Depart in 
peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding 
ye give them not those things which are needful 
to the body ; what doth it profit ? 

“ ‘Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, 
being alone.’ ” 

Then he turned to the twenty-fifth chapter of 
Matthew and read: 

“ ‘For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : 
I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a 
stranger, and ye took me in : 

“‘Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and 
ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto 
me. 

“ ‘Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, 
Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed 
thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? 

“ ‘When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee 
in? or naked, and clothed thee? 

“ ‘Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and 
came unto thee? 

“ ‘And the King shall answer and say unto 
them. Verily I say unto you. Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto me. 

“ ‘Then shall he say also unto them on the left 
hand. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting, 
fire, prepared for the devil and his angels : 

“ ‘For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no 
meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: 

“ ‘I was a stranger, and ye took me not in : 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


289 


naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in prison, 
and ye visited me not. 

‘Then shall they also answer him, saying, 
Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, 
or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and 
did not minister unto thee? 

“ ‘Then shall he answer them, saying. Verily I 
say unto you. Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of 
the least of these, ye did it not to me. 

“ ‘And these shall go away into everlasting pun- 
ishment : but the righteous into life eternal.’ ” 

Captain Morgan and Helen knelt, and in his pe- 
tition the captain said: 

“O Lord, you know me and I know you. When 
I say I want to get some warm clothes for these 
little children, you know I mean it. When I tell 
you that I don’t know of a dollar that I can spare 
to spend for them, you know I’m honest. Won’t 
you show me where to get the clothes if you think 
I ought to give ’em to the children?” 

After the prayer, Helen withdrew to her own 
room. 

Mrs. Morgan then said : 

“Father, my shawl didn’t cost as much as you 
left with me. When Helen brought it home, she 
put the rest of the money in the table drawer; 
maybe you might use that for the children.” 

“Why, that’s some of the money that I had laid 
by to pay Dr. Cary with, but he refused to take it, 
you know. I paid the other bills out of it, and 
gave you what was left so you could make your- 
self more comfortable. It’s yours,” 

19 . .. 


290 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


'‘I don’t know that I really need anything else 
now. So maybe you had better just use it that 
way.” 

Helen opened a box on her dressing-table, 
counted out a few pieces of silver, quoting: 

“ ‘Study to shew thyself approved unto God.’ ” 
Then she closed the box, thinking: “My real pur- 
pose for hoarding this money for which I sold the 
eggs was to show myself approved unto man. But 
I never thought of it exactly in that way before. 
Now I will give this, and just make over my old 
dress the best I can.” 

She carried the money to her father, and Cap- 
tain Morgan said : 

“If we try to answer our own prayers, the Lord 
will help us.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


One morning in the latter part of winter, Uncle 
Dan took his gun and sauntered forth. While go- 
ing through a strip of woods near home, he fired 
into a covey of birds, but succeeded only in scat- 
tering them. Farther on a squirrel darted up a 
tree, ran out on a limb, and seated itself with its 
bushy tail for background. Uncle Dan watched 
the movements of the small animal until he per- 
ceived that the time was opportune. He then 
pulled the trigger and the deed was done. He 
pocketed his game and wandered through the 
woods. When he came to the edge, he saw Cap- 
tain Morgan at a distance. 

He then crossed a stubble-field, and found the 
captain hauling out fodder for his stock. 

“Cold work, ain’t that, fer this mornin’ ?” asked 
Uncle Dan. 

“Pretty cold,” answered the captain. “It won’t 
do though to wait on the weather : the stock 
would suffer. I’ve just been thinkin’.” He pulled 
on the line, stopping his horse. 

“Thinkin’? What you thinkin’, ’bout. Captain? 
Somethin’ good, I reckon.” Uncle Dan rested 
the end of his gun on the frozen ground. 

“I’ve just been thinkin’ ’bout the different ways 
God’s people work. Some toil early and late, 
through heat and through cold. Some work in 
fair weather, but not under unfavorable condi- 
tions. And some even say they didn’t know they 


292 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


were meant. And our Lord has given His com- 
mand to all who would follow Him.’’ 

“Ever’ one of ’em?” asked Uncle Dan. 

“Every one of His own.” 

“An’ them what ain’t Hisn, what about it?” 

“Well, what about it sure enough,” said Cap- 
tain Morgan, pushing the fingers of his heavy 
gloves closer to his hands. “They ought to be- 
come His, oughtn’t they?” 

“I don’t know,” said Uncle Dan, soberly. “I 
don’t know. I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you. 
Captain, but ef follerin’ the Lord means work, I 
reckon I jes’ about as well leave it be.” 

“The Lord will help you with what He would 
have you do. Everybody doesn’t have to work in 
exactly the same way. You’ll have to ask the 
Lord to show you what He would have you do. 
And He’ll impress that on you, and show you in 
one way and another. Prayer and following the 
dictates of the Holy Spirit is the secret of the 
Christian life. It’s some’s duty to work in one 
field and some’s to work in another. I don’t 
believe it’s anybody’s duty to neglect the fields 
nearest to them — the fields of their own homes.” 

“But then you know I’ve n-e-v-e-r been what 
you, what some ’ud call a specially active man, an 
I’m feered I, I je.s’ couldn’t work at nothin’, that’s 
it.” And Uncle Dan leaned heavily on his gun. 

The best thing would be just to give up your- 
self to the Lord and let Him see what He could 
do with you.” 

“I’m feered it’s a bad showin’, Captain; bad 
showin’. Ef He ’ud put me to haulin’ out fodder, 


AMONG THU MUADOWS 


293 


say, on a cole, frosty mornin’, I ’ud give up, Fm 
sure I would. When a man’s lived to my age an’ 
never done nothin’ ’tall, then talk ’bout puttin’ 
him to any kind o’ work, it won’t do. I’ve seen 
things ef I haven’t never done nothin’.” Uncle 
Dan lifted his gun and put it down on the ground 
in a different place. 

‘‘When the Lord is backin’ a man he can do a 
heap of things that he could never do by himself.” 

“Mebbe ef he didn’t want to do nothin’ hard 
ef he did have the backin’, what about that?” 

“If he’s got a full amount of the backing, he’ll 
want to do whatever the Lord wants him to, 
whether it is to work hard in one way or another, 
or just to be patient and wait.” 

“Ef I wasn’t feered the Lord would call on me 
fer hard things. Ef I was like you. Captain. 
There ain’t many though what is.” 

“Oh, I don’t set myself up to be one of the first 
ones. I’m just tryin’ to do the best I know. Some- 
times it seems I must be sorter a hypocrite, for you 
and a few others think I’m better than I am, I be- 
lieve.” 

“No; you don’t fool me, an’ you don’t fool no- 
body else as I know of. People in general ain’t 
so easy fooled as some folks seem to think they 
air. It don’t mek so much difference ’bout how 
good you claim to be, it’s how good you air that 
people count on.” 

“Claims alone don’t amount to anything. They 
help if they are backed by a determination.” 

“But what good would it do fer me to claim to 
belong to the Lord unless I ’ud live up to it by 


294 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


doin’ what He would want me to do? An’ Fm 
feered it would be work. Captain, you know me. 
It ain’t no use o’ me heatin’ round the stump to 
you ’bout myse’f, fer you know I wouldn’t work 
at nothin’. I was jes’ born lazy, I reckon. Other 
folks know ’bout it, an’ I know it, though I ain’t 
so plain spoken very often myse’f. Ef I was sure 
of a easy, settin’-round job, then I might talk 
about it.” 

'‘You can rest assured that the Lord won’t give 
you anything that you can’t do with His help. But 
here, we have got to go somewhere some time; 
you know it, and I know it. Think of those who 
have gone on before us ; your time will come, and 
my time. Suppose you should get into Heaven 
without having done anything at all for the Eord, 
you wouldn’t want all the saints there lookin’ 
down on you, would you?” 

“They wouldn’t do that way there, would they?” 

“I reckon not. But what right do you think 
you would have to be looked up to when you 
hadn’t laid up any treasures of any kind there? 
Don’t you see, you ’ud be a Nobody Over There?” 

“You think then a feller couldn’t invite hisse’f 
to all their big dinners an’ other doin’s what they 
have there, do you? No easy-goin’, lucky fellers 
there ?” 

“But if you will let the Eord take full possession 
of you. He can change you so that you will want 
to strike even hard licks for Him.” 

“Now, Captain, I’ve been tryin’ to take in ever’- 
thing you’ve said. But when you tell me I kin 
be made to want to strike hard licks, I tell you 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


295 


honest, I can’t swaller it. I haven’t been livin’ 
with myse’f all these years an’ not found that out.” 
Uncle Dan shouldered his gun, and turned away. 

^‘Hold on!” called Captain Morgan, dropping 
his line and following. ‘'The Uord is powerful, 
don’t you know? He’s all-powerful. He can help 
you do whatever He thinks you ought to do. Give 
Him your heart while there is yet time.” 

Uncle Dan looked startled. “While there is 
yet time,” he thought. “You thinkin’ ’bout that 
too?” But he said: 

“Captain, I’ve hindered you in yer work, an’ it’s 
cole. I’ll walk on to the house, an’ set a while 
with Mrs. Morgan an’ Miss Helen.” 

Captain Morgan returned to his hauling, with 
a prayer in his heart. “When one wants to do for 
the Uord, opportunities often present themselves,” 
he thought. “But did I say just what I should 
have said? I did the best I knew. So I’ll leave 
the results with the Lord. The good don’t come 
by me, only through me.” 

When he went to the house he asked Mrs. Mor- 
gan how long Uncle Dan stayed. 

“Only a short time,” she answered. “Did you 
know he was here?” 

“I was talkin’ with him up in the field,” the cap- 
tain said, as he sat down by the fire to warm. “He 
told me he was coming.” 

“He didn’t have much to say this mornin’,” said 
Mrs. Morgan. “He is usually goin’ on with some 
fun or other, but he looked like he was sorter 
studyin’. He brought me a squirrel.” 


296 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Helen entered at the hall door, carrying a dress 
across her arm. 

“What are you goin’ to do?” asked Mrs. Mor- 
gan. She observed Helen sweep the mantel- 
piece with a look, and then open the table drawer 
and take out of it a penknife. 

“I thought I ’ud rip this up, wash it, and turn 
it,” answered Helen. “I think I can improve its 
appearance.” 

Mrs. Morgan stepped over the line into her 
one-time land of prosperity, and stood for a sec- 
ond with the question just unasked, “Why not 
go along and get you a new one?” But Captain 
Morgan lifted Mrs. Morgan back within the bor- 
ders of adversity, by saying: 

“You show wisdom, daughter, by spending 
your money in the way it will count for the most.” 

“Wisdom?” said Mrs. Morgan, with her feet 
firmly planted on the land which she now recog- 
nized as her own. “I call it necessity.” She laid 
down a piece of needle-work to clutch the work- 
basket on her lap. 

“Necessity, though, may be used as a means to 
wisdom, and no doubt daughter realizes that,” 
said Captain Morgan. And then he thought: “If 
I had made her keep what I let her spend in 
the Lord’s cause, she might gratify her tastes. 
I would like for her to gratify her tastes, but I 
know the other will do her more good. I don’t 
care much about many things any more for my- 
self, but I would like to have more things and bet- 
ter things for my family.” And he lifted his heart 
in prayer: “O Lord, you know I wouldn’t take 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


297 


back anything. I wouldn’t have them do it. But 
help my thoughts. May even my thoughts go to 
the credit side.'' 

Mrs. Morgan looked at Helen and asked : 

‘‘Is Uncle Dan goin' somewhere else to hunt 
to-day? I heard him talkin' to you at the door. 
I thought maybe he told you." 

“He said he was going on home," Helen an- 
swered, as she sat down in a chair by the window. 
She opened the knife which she held in her hand, 
thinking: “Poor Uncle Dan! I believe he thinks 
he's going to die soon." 

When Uncle Dan reached home he saw that the 
door of a building in the yard stood open. Apples 
were stored here. He went in, expecting to find 
Bruce. And Bruce was on his knees, sorting out 
the bad apples and throwing them into a feed bas- 
ket. 

“Why you back?" asked he, looking up and 
observing Uncle Dan stand his gun in a corner. 

“I b'lieve I'd rather hang round you to-day, 
boy." Uncle Dan stooped over the apples near 
Bruce. 

“All right." 

Uncle Dan began picking up the rotten apples 
and throwing them into the basket. 

“Duck fail you to-day?" asked Bruce. 

“Luck was 'bout the same. I shot one squir- 
rel." 

“Did you run upon a snag then? I told you 
you'd better ride." 

“Ah, boy, you know me too, don't you ? That's 
jes' a different way o' sayin' you knowed I was too 


298 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


lazy to go ver’y fur. I did run on a snag, but the 
snag was Captain Morgan. The water run in an’ 
beat agin the ole weak place in the boat. Then 
Miss Helen she come ’long with the putty of her 
pooty-soundin’ words, an’ tried to patch up the 
snagged place. But the putty wouldn’t stick, fer 
the water what Captain Morgan had started in 
kep’ surgin’ through. The boat is goin’ down, 
boy; the ole boat is goin’ to sink.” Uncle Dan 
laid his face on his arms and his frame shook with 
sobs. 

Bruce took his handkerchief from his pocket 
and wiped his forehead. Then he picked up a 
handful of the decayed fruit and dropped it into 
the basket. Wishing to relieve Uncle Dan in 
some way, at length Bruce said: 

“Go in by the fire and let me send for the doc- 
tor.” 

“I don’t need no doctor,” said Uncle Dan, 
shaking his head, sobbing like a child. “He ain’t 
what I need. I don’t know what I need, but I’m 
goin’ to be lost, boy ! I’m goin’ to be lost.” 

“Captain Morgan has just scared you, that’s all. 
Why, be braver than that. Captain is a good man, 
but sometimes he does talk like old Satan was 
’bout to nab a fellow. Come on and help me with 
the apples. Here’s a basketful ready to carry out. 
I’ve been emptyin’ them on the hillside yonder. 
Take this down there now, won’t you?” 

Uncle Dan rose slowly. He was like one watch- 
ing from prison walls the sports of others, know- 
ing that he could never again participate in them. 
He tottered out of the room with the basket, and 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


299 


down near the graveyard on the hillside, emptied 
it. 

Bruce worked on industriously. He thought of 
sending other basketfuls by Uncle Dan. But upon 
the suggestion, Uncle Dan said: 

“Boy, it only meks me think o’ the way the 
good an’ the bad’ll be separated. It meks me 
think o’ myse’f bein’ tumbled out to go to de- 
struction, while Captain Morgan and Miss Helen 
will be safe somewhere else like the good apples.” 

“Don’t take them,” said Bruce. “This is about 
the last anyhow.” 

Uncle Dan squatted by Bruce, and after a short 
time said: 

“Boy, won’t you, won’t you p-u-t me, won’t you 
gimme that upper corner yonder, the one what 
looks toward the woods an’ the crick? Won’t 
you lay me there when the time comes ? An’, boy, 
ef I could jes’ think o’ you an’ Helen cornin’ there 
together sometimes, an’ puttin’ flowers on my 
grave! By an’ by bringin’ yer little chillun with 
you, an’ lettin’ them plant some lilies-of-the-valley, 
holly-hocks, an’ tiger-lilies, fer all them growed in 
my mother’s garden out on the ole farm where 
the spring was, an’ tellin’ the chillun that Uncle 
Dan would ’a’ loved them as he loved their fa- 
ther an’ mother, it seems like it wouldn’t be so 
hard to lay there an’ rot — like the apples.” 

Bruce wiped his forehead again, and Uncle Dan 
continued : 

“Tell ’em, boy, that when Uncle Dan was young 
like them he wasn’t bad. He had only one spot 
on him like some of these apples started with, but 


300 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


it spread an’ it spread. Let it be a warnin’ to 
them. Tell ’em I would ’a’ been better at the las’ 
ef I could, but I was too fur gone; I knowed it 
couldn’t be. An’, boy, ef you kin think o’ any- 
thing to tell ’em ’bout me before the spot clean 
covered me, I wisht you would. Fer I ’ud like fer 
’em to love me as much as they kin.” And Uncle 
Dan sobbed on his arm. 

Bruce wiped his brow. Then he rose and car- 
ried the basket to the hillside, and put it down. 

The ground was thawed where the sun fell upon 
it. But in sheltered places there was ice still. 

Bruce looked at the frozen earth above the 
scarlet bow, thinking that the vacancy in his heart 
could never be filled. Then he emptied the bas- 
ket, swung it over his arm, and walked up the hill. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


As Mrs. Morgan plucked the red blooms from 
the honeysuckles in the front yard, the soft 
breezes of early summer stole in and out among 
the vines and fanned her gray hair about her 
temples. She caught a stem in the breast-pin at 
her throat, fastening the bright flower against the 
bosom of her white wrapper. Then she reached 
for other blooms to add to those in her hand. 

There was evidence of lenewed life around her. 
The oak-leaves were tender. The grass on the 
lawn was green. 

She looked out over the meadow which the sun 
shone upon. And as she looked an arm encircled 
her waist, and a voice said : 

“Mother, it’s good to see you going about in 
your old way. Are the flowers for the breakfast- 
table?” 

“Yes; but ‘mother’ seems so old. I feel so 
young and glad to-day ; can’t you call me by some 
other name? Sickness seems almost worth while 
for the experience of getting well. You have no 
idea how delightful it is, and I can’t tell you.” 

The arm drew her a little closer, and the voice 
spoke in tones a little more mellow : 

“I’m glad; you don’t know how glad, and I 
can’t tell you. It makes me feel young again too, 
because it seems almost as if I were talking to 
Fanny of the long ago, the one who was my sweet- 
heart. So Sweetheart it will have to be to-day 
instead of mother, won’t it?” He kissed the gray 


302 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


hair, and touched his lips to the bloom at his wife’s 
throat. 

The breezes carried some loose strands of hair 
against his face. As he stroked them back, he 
looked over her head away to the meadow, but his 
mind’s eye dwelt on the many meadows of expe- 
riences that they had harvested together. 

“Perhaps we had better go in,” Mrs. Morgan 
said after a while; “Helen will be waiting for us.” 

The pair turned toward the house. They were, 
though, companions of the march who had lost 
step. He kept time, as was his custom, to the 
lofty tune of duty. But she listened to the many 
melodies about her, and fell behind in the march. 

“Mother, take the honeysuckles in the room,” 
Helen said, when the three had risen from the 
breakfast-table. 

“Then I will come back and wipe the dishes for 
you,” said Mrs. Morgan, carrying away the flow- 
ers. 

“Just stay there,” Helen called. “You will be 
too tired to go to-day.” 

Helen prevented her mother assisting in any 
except the lightest of the household duties. And 
in spite of her resolutions while she lay abed, 
Mrs. Morgan dreaded the drudgery. So as usual 
she obeyed Helen’s commands. She placed the 
tumbler with the honeysuckles on the little table, 
and thought of her trip to meeting with her hus- 
band and daughter. She had not gone since her 
illness, and after a short time she began her prep- 
arations with a girlish interest in her apparel. 

She put on a gown which Helen’s deft fingers 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


303 


had altered for the occasion. She then tied on her 
dress-bonnet, and brought a honeysuckle. But 
the sight of her gray hair prevented her fastening 
on the flower. 

Her hair was parted in the middle and lay in 
waves along the front and sides of her head like 
the tiniest edges of the billows on the surging 
sea. 

While she straightened the black velvet loops 
of the bow, she looked alternately at the bloom 
on the shelf below the mirror and at her gray hair. 

Captain Morgan thrust his head within the door- 
way, and asked: 

"‘Are you ready? It's time we were off." 

Then her agitation revealed itself in the reply, 
which was : 

^‘Every man ought to have a woman's dress to 
put on just once in his life, and then he would 
learn some patience." 

“I never meant to be impatient," said the cap- 
tain, humbly, advancing toward his wife. “I'm 
too glad you can go with me to-day for that. How 
well you do look, mother." 

Mrs. Morgan looked at the honeysuckle, the 
blossom of the old vine which she had plucked but 
to wither, and longed for the fulfillment of her 
new desires that had come with her strength. 
Later, when she got into the old carriage, and it 
rattled its dry, paintless spokes over the pike, her 
discontent was manifested in her words: 

“This carriage ought to be painted and fixed up 
unless we throw it aside altogether. It’s frightful 
for a body to ride in. What will people say?" 


304 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Captain Morgan struck the horse with the 
lines, making him trot until he came to a hill, 
thinking, “Fanny’s been sick so long, it’s natural 
for her to compare the way we go now with the style 
we used to go in.” 

Helen remarked: 

“There comes some one, who is it?” 

Several long fishing-rods extended out of the 
back of the approaching buggy. When Uncle 
Dan stopped, he said: 

“Why, Mrs. Morgan, you goin’ to-day? I’m a 
notion to turn round an’ go back myse’f. But 
you wouldn’t lemme set in the pew with you with 
my fishin’ clothes on, would you?” 

“Yes, we would,” said the captain. “Come 
along.” 

“I’m jes’ talkin’. Captain. It wouldn’t be no 
use nohow, fer I wouldn’t ketch nothin’ there no 
more then I ketched fish on the trip.” 

“How long have you been gone?” asked Mrs. 
Morgan. 

“I jes’ went day before yestiddy. Well, it sorter 
looks like ole times to see you drivin’ out.” 

Mrs. Morgan laid her arm along the back of 
the seat to hide a rent in the cloth. Uncle Dan 
continued : 

“Miss Helen, she’s growed up more of a woman 
though since then. I declare, Mrs. Morgan, ef it 
wasn’t fer yer gray hair, you ’ud look as young 
as Miss Helen does. People ’ud take you to be 
sisters anyhow ef they didn’t know no better.” 

Mrs. Morgan again thought of her desire to 
live life over in a measure, and said: 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


30s 


“It don’t look like just the color of a body’s 
hair ought to have anything to do with it, does 
it?” 

“You hear that, Captain? I expect the captain 
could tell you that that bald spot on his head 
made him feel ole before his time; couldn’t you. 
Captain ?” 

“I don’t know that it did,” replied Captain Mor- 
gan; “but I believe it made people feel toward 
me as if I were older than I was.” 

“That amounts to ’bout the same thing, don’t 
it? People looked on you as bein’ ole, an’ then 
you had to think o’ yerse’f as you knowed they 
thought o’ you, so you ’ud be able to meet their 
requirements of you. I kin jedge from my own 
experience. My head it ain’t bald, an’ my hair it 
ain’t gray, but people think o’ me in jes’ sech a 
way.” Uncle Dan struck his fishing-rods with his 
foot, and then said, “People think I’m onery, an’ 
I have to think so my’sef so I’ll know how to act 
toward them.” 

“You are not obliged to,” said the captain. 

“Yes, sir, I am; fer it’s jes’ that a- way.” 

, “But if you were different, people wouldn’t 
think you were onery, you see, an’ you wouldn’t 
have to think so yourself.” 

“Now, Captain, yer head it got bald, an’ yer 
head it stayed bald, an’ you knowed it was bald. 
Mrs. Morgan her hair it turned white when some 
ladies of her age was still a wearin’ their colored 
hair ; it’ll stay white, an’ Mrs. Morgan she knows 
20 


3o6 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


it will. I have been-^well, IVe been that all my 
life, an’ I know I’ll stay jes’ that a-way.” 

'‘You haven’t stayed just where you were, 
though,” said the captain. 

“But, Captain, it ain’t no less than it was. I 
know that too.” 

“You can change from bad to worse, and the 
Lord can change you from bad to good.” 

“Not when a feller knows he’s clean done gone. 
I wisht I could b’lieve you. Captain. I went a 
fishin’, Bruce said fer me to try the ole charmer, 
but she wouldn’t work. I couldn’t take no heart 
in ketchin’ the fish, nor in the tryin’ of it either. 
But then I won’t keep you all away from yer 
meetin’. I’m pow’ful glad to see you out, Mrs. 
Morgan. I tell you honest, though, I never ex- 
pected to see the like of it again. I never did.” 

“The Lord can do wonderful things. Uncle 
Dan,” said Captain Morgan; “He can, that He 
can.” 

“Sometimes, I reckon,” said Uncle Dan. Then 
he tapped his horse with his whip, and drove on. 

“Poor fellow!” said Captain Morgan, as he 
urged his horse forward. 

“Poor Uncle Dan !” said Helen. 

“What’s the matter with him, anyhow?” asked 
Mrs. Morgan, dropping her hand from the back 
of the seat. 

“He thinks the Lord can’t save anybody as no 
account as he is,” replied the captain, “and old 
Satan will use that to cheat him with just as long 
as he can. Nothing less than the power of the 
Lord could make much change in him, I’m sure ; 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


3<y7 


but nothing" else can save industrious people, for 
that matter. Industry ain’t goin’ to save ’em, nor 
honesty ain’t goin ’to save ’em, nor morality ain’t 
goin’ to, nor intellectuality alone ain’t; nothing 
is but Christ. A taking hold of Him and making 
Him your own is the only way there is to get to 
Heaven. First become His disciple, and then 
your life in the Lord should be the reason for 
your upright life and your good works, the source 
of it. But I don’t think a man can be a Christian 
and not be honest and moral and industrious, too, 
for that matter.” 

At Meadowville Captain Morgan stopped at the 
stile of the meeting-house, and assisted his wife 
and daughter from the carriage. 

Two or three people came up and shook hands 
with them, telling Mrs. Morgan that they were glad 
to see her. 

Others spoke to the two women in the vestibule 
while Captain Morgan was hitching his horse. 
And Mrs. Morgan felt as if she had just returned 
from a long journey. She remembered the land 
in which she had been as one on which the sun 
never shone. How joyous she was to walk again 
on her native shores and bask in its sunshine ! 

A song was begun. Mrs. Morgan advanced 
down the aisle behind Captain Morgan, and Helen 
followed her mother. As Mrs. Morgan found the 
hymn and united with the congregation in sing- 
ing, the bloom of the honeysuckle was on her face, 
and no thought of the white hair was in her mind. 

In solemn, measured tones, the pastor, who had 
served that church long and faithfully, read the 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


308 

parable of the sower. And in the conclusion of 
his sermon, said: 

''If there be soil before me, which is not ready 
for the seed of truth, prepare the ground. By the 
hand of God with your plows of determination, 
break up the dry, hardened paths. Increase the 
depth of the soil so that the growth from this 
seed may not wither. Root out the thorns in the 
land of your souls. Each rocky hillside as well as 
every meadow within the range of my vision may 
be turned into productive soil. Let it be so. As 
you return to your homes, may God’s word re- 
main with you, and bring forth an abundant har- 
vest of the golden grains of righteousness.” 

The services ended, and the congreg-ation dis- 
persed. The shepherd of the flock joined Mrs. 
Morgan and Helen, who lingered in the vestibule 
talking, and expressed his delight at having Mrs. 
Morgan present again. 

Captain Morgan drove up to the stile and 
waited. Several vehicles pressed for the place 
where his carriage stood. He hesitated yielding 
it for a while, thinking, "They will come soon.” 
Einally he drove to one side. Other people came 
out, got in their buggies, and passed the captain. 
Some went down the street afoot, some up the 
street, and still "they” had not come. 

The sexton swung one of the big doors forward. 
Captain Morgan drew up in front of the church- 
yard gate. Then "they” issued from the half-closed 
doorway, and Mrs. Morgan asked, "Are you 
ready?” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


309 


“Ready?"’ But the honeysuckle bloom in her 
face prompted him to add, “Take your time.” 

“I reckon we have taken it, and as much of 
other people’s too as they thought they could 
spare,” said Mrs. Morgan, as she went toward the 
carriage. 

“You haven’t taken any of mine yet,” spoke a 
strong young voice near her. 

“Why, that you, Bruce?” she said, extending 
her hand to him. 

“I am very glad indeed that you are able to be 
out.” 

He handed Mrs. Morgan into the carriage, and 
Helen after her. 

Helen’s handkerchief slipped from its mys- 
terious hiding-place about the waist of her gown. 
But Captain Morgan drove off before Bruce had 
an opportunity to get the dainty article of lawn 
and lace. 

Bruce afterwards put the handkerchief in his 
pocket, and it caused a train of thought that lasted 
him during half of his ride home. Some of his 
thoughts were these : 

“Where is there another young lady who can 
wear one dress so long, and yet impart to it a look 
of freshness all the time? I don’t know what it’s 
made of, and I don’t know how it’s made, but it 
puts one to wondering about it, and leads one’s 
mind to dwell on the wearer instead of on the cos- 
tume.” Having moved thus far toward the brink 
of danger, he was content to stop. 

And when he drove up by the side of the car- 


310 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


riage, he gave the handkerchief to Helen without 
bestowing further thought upon her. 

Upon arriving at home, Mrs. Morgan ex- 
changed her dress for a wrapper, and lay down on 
the bed. 

Captain Morgan came in after a short time from 
unhitching his horse and feeding him. Upon ob- 
serving his wife, he said: 

“You are worn out, aren’t you? I was afraid 
you would be.” 

“You thought at first that I could not go at all, 
and now you think I ought to have stood the trip 
like a strong person. That is as consistent as — 
dressin’ up in your Sunday clothes and not 
blackin’ the heels of your shoes. But maybe you 
think it’s a waste of time to black your shoes 
where you can’t see them. I don’t know that I 
ever heard you give any good reason for it.” 

He gave none then, but sat down smiling, 
picked up a paper, and began looking over it. 

About the time that Mrs. Morgan rose from 
the bed, the captain began reading an article 
aloud. Mrs. Morgan stepped into the hall for 
something, and Captain Morgan stopped and 
waited for her to return. When she came in, he 
resumed reading. Before long she went again to 
the hall for a fan which she knew to be out there. 
Captain Morgan again stopped. 

“Why don’t you listen?” he asked, when Mrs. 
Morgan had returned the second time. 

“I’m listening,” she replied. 

“It’s a strange sort,” said he. 

“Well, that’s twice then to-day that I have 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


311 

proved to you that I can do more than you 
thought I could.” 

L,ate in the afternoon the couple sat on the 
veranda, and Captain Morgan said: 

“What a privilege it is to have one day of rest 
in seven. What a pity to abuse it ! When people 
realize that God has been good to them as you 
and I know He has been good to us, it is easier, 
I reckon, to be grateful.” 

Mrs. Morgan got up and walked to the end of 
the veranda, thinking: “That makes three things 
I’ve done to-day that he didn’t think I could do. 
I have wanted back those years that I spent in 
sickness. I’ve wanted them back for the very love 
of life itself; for the full enjoyment of its pleas- 
ures. I have felt cheated.” 

She looked down near the pike-gate and saw Helen 
coming toward the house. But only Helen knew 
why she turned her back to the road. She feared 
that Bruce Turner, as he passed, would see in her 
face what she knew was in her heart, love for him. 


CHAPTER XXV 


Bruce tapped on the door of Uncle Dan’s bed- 
room. But receiving only a groan for an answer, 
he turned the knob and went in. 

“Why, are you sick?” he asked. “I wondered 
why you didn’t come to breakfast.” 

“Yes, boy, I think I’m sick. Anyhow, it’s 
come. There ain’t a-goin’ to be no Uncle Dan 
much longer.” 

“Oh, don’t talk that way. Uet me help you with 
your clothes.” Bruce picked up some articles 
which lay on a chair, and carried them to the bed. 

“Take ’em back, boy, take ’em back. I’ll never 
have no more use fer ’em. It’ll be my Sundays, 
the nex’ clo’es what I wear, an’ I’ll not have 
nothin’ to do with the puttin’ on of ’em either.” 
And Uncle Dan groaned long and heavily. 

“Where do you hurt?” asked Bruce. 

“I reckon you mean fer me to tell you ’bout the 
ketch what I’ve got in my side ; but, boy, ef that 
was all what I was afeerd of, it wouldn’t be so 
pow’ful bad. Fer I ’ud know when I got to where 
I couldn’t stand it, there would be a better place 
fer me to go out to. As ’tis, though, when the 
ketch gits too much fer me, the place what I’ve 
got to go out to, it ain’t no better place. O boy ! 
O boy! O boy! can’t you do nothin’ fer me? 
Can’t you save me? Can’t you save me? Can’t 
you save me?” 

“Don’t, Uncle Dan, don’t! you’ll get well. You 
just caught cold the other day when you got wet 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 313 

in the woods. Cheer up now ; you’ll get well. I 
will send Tom right off for Dr. Grose, and he will 
set you on your feet again.” Bruce turned to 
leave the room, and Uncle Dan said : 

“Tell Tom to stop an’ ast Captain Morgan to 
come. Tell him I sez please come right away.” 
And Uncle Dan groaned again. 

“I’ll tell Aunt Jane to bring you some break- 
fast too. I expect a cup of coffee would make you 
feel better.” 

“I don’t want no breakfast, no coffee, no nothin’, 
boy, except — hurry up with the captain.” 

As Bruce passed through the hall, he heard a 
knock at the front door, which proved to be that 
of Captain Morgan. 

When the captain entered the sick-room, Uncle 
Dan sprang to a sitting posture, and stretched out 
his arms, crying: 

“Captain, Captain, can’t you save me? Can’t 
you save me? I’m goin’ to be lost.” 

Bruce drew up the bed-clothes, for the room 
had not warmed thoroughly since he made the fire 
in the grate. Then he went down-stairs again to 
send Tom for the doctor. 

“Can’t you save me?” cried Uncle Dan once 
more. 

“Why, that is exactly what the Lord has wanted 
to do all this time — exactly,” said Captain Mor- 
gan. “He is more anxious to save you than you 
are to be saved.” Then he drew a chair to the 
side of the bed and seated himself. 

“Now, Captain, I’m talkin’ facts,” said Uncle 
Dan. “I ain’t got no time to waste. I want you 


314 AMONG THB MEADOWS 

to believe it, fer I know it's so. Bruce, he won't. 
So, Captain, don't you tell me nothin' what you 
know ain't straight." 

'1 never do, do I?" 

“No; unless it is 'bout the Lord bein' able to 
change folks from bein' their ve'y se'ves. Sech 
as that is all you ever do yarn about. Now this 
here is the las' thing I'll ever ast o' you: I want 
you to send me to Heaven without tellin' no yarns 
'bout the way to git there. Honest, Captain, an' 
quick about it." Uncle Dan lay back on his pil- 
low, drew the cover over his chest, and coughed 
a hard, hoarse cough. Then he said: “You say 
the Lord wants me there? Honest, Captain, is 
that a fact? None o' yer stretchin' now. I ain't 
got time fer that." 

“Honestly, it is a fact, Uncle Dan." 

“What does he want with me? Does he want 
to put me to work, you reckon?" 

“He wants you because He loves you. He 
wants to make you happy and safe forever and 
ever." 

“He wants to mek me happy an' safe forever an' 
ever. He wants to do it, you say?" 

“Yes ; He wants to. He has loved you so long — 
all your life." 

“Loved me all my life? Me? Captain, hon- 
est?" 

“Honestly, Uncle Dan, He has." 

“How you know?" 

“He says so in His Book." 

“He took the pains to put it in a book, did He? 
The Bible, I reckon you mean ?" 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


315 


“Yes.” 

“Is it anything like the way mother did, you 
reckon? She loved me.” 

“Better.” 

“Better? Hold on, Captain, none o’ yer 
stretchin,’ you know. Honest now?” 

“Honestly, Uncle Dan, He’s better able to.” 

“But she, my mother, done so many things fer 
me. 

“Of course she did; she wanted to show her 
love for you. And God wanted to show His love 
for you, and He did show it by doing much more 
for you than even your mother could do. He sent 
His only son, Jesus, into the world to save you. 
And Jesus loved you too. He loved you so much 
that He was willing to leave Heaven, come to this 
world, and live the life of a man, that of a very 
poor man too, and then to die for you.” 

“Fer me, Captain? You don’t say! I’m pow’- 
ful sorry I ever needed fer Him to do all that.” 

“We all need it, for that matter.” 

“But I’ve sinned so, Captain. You don’t know. 
Oh, I’m so pow’ful sorry I ever sinned I” 

“Then you’ve taken the first step in the right 
direction, if you are sorry.” 

“I have? How do you know? 

“Christ said, ‘Except ye repent, ye shall all like- 
wise perish.’ And you’ve done that.” 

“I have that. Ain’t there nothin’ else I have to 
do?” 

“You have to take Him as your Saviour — be- 
lieve what He tells you is so. And He says that 
‘whosoever believeth in Him should not perish. 


3i6 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


but have everlasting life/ And that whosoever 
means you'' 

^‘He said that?” 

“Yes; Jesus said that. You can trust Him 
when He’s done all the other for you, can’t you? 
After He died He went back to Heaven to pre- 
pare a place there for you. Now you want to quit 
your sins, and believe on Him, take Him as your 
Saviour.” 

“A place fer me ef I do that? A place fer me, 
Captain, up in Heaven? Honest?” 

“Honestly.” 

“Well, ain’t it good o’ Him? He was ready 
an’ a-waitin’ to mek it before I let on anything ’t 
all ’bout wantin’ of it. It must be a good one too 
ef He’s better able to fix it up then my mother 
was. Is He, you reckon ?” 

“Better able? Yes.” 

“Well, Captain, I ain’t no fitten person fer sech 
as that. I know I ain’t. I ’ud feel like I did the 
time what I went to the grand ball. I saw the 
other fellers skip over the floor with the fine 
ladies, but I knowed I couldn’t hit the lick, an’ 
so I jes’ crope back in a corner an’ watched ’em 
fer a spell. By an’ by they begun to look at me, 
an’ then I slid out through the back door, thinkin’ 
it ’ud be a cool day in August when I tried 
a-nother place what I wasn’t fitten fer. An’ I 
b’lieve now ef the Lord ’ud put a back door to the 
place what He ’ud fix up fer me, I ’ud be fer 
slippin’ out through it. I b’lieve I would.” 

“But don’t you think it’s ungrateful not to show 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 


317 


appreciation when He’s asked you to let Him fix 
up a nice place for you ?” 

“I think it is. It seems to me, though, ef a 
feller’s a mind to slosh round in his dirty clo’es till 
it’s nigh time to go into the place he’s too onery 
to have it anyhow. Ef the Lord wasn’t jes’ the 
Lord, I b’lieve He ’ud tell the feller that he could 
look out fer hisse’f now.” 

'‘But instead of that He is still anxious for you 
to have it,” said Captain Morgan. 

“Ain’t He good? But I’ve got sech little time 
left.” 

“Enough in which to yield your heart to Him, 
and let Him make you fit for Heaven.” 

“He will do that, you say? Honest, Captain?” 

“Honestly, Uncle Dan; He is anxious to do 
it.” 

“Captain, Captain, I tell you honest I don’t 
b’lieve I kin do it. I’m ’shamed to. It looks like 
takin’ too much advantage of Him when He’s so 
good. I’ve been so onery, sinnin’ away all the 
good days o’ my life. Now when I know I’m 
’bout to die, I come to Him an’ ast Him to mek 
me fit fer Heaven, a place along with Him. It 
ain’t square. It ain’t square. I tell you it ain’t. 
He’s too good to be slipped up on in any sech a 
way as that. Too good! If I have been onery 
all my life, I don’t want to go marchin’ into 
Heaven feelin’ like a dog what’s been caught at 
killin’ sheep. I ain’t a-goin’ to abuse His good- 
ness in no sech a way as that. I 

“But you are abusing it by not letting Him have 
your heart right now. He is calling for it yet, and 


3i8 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


the longer you hold it from Him, the more you 
will abuse His goodness.’’ 

'‘Honest, Captain?” 

"Yes, honestly.” 

"Well, I’ve done enough o’ that a’ready. I don’t 
want to do no more. Here, Lord, take it, take it. 
I don’t know what you want with it, but ef my 
keepin’ of it is abusin’ you, take it. I’m ’shamed 
to give you the ole, worn-out, sin-stained thing. 
It’s a fact! But ef you want it, take it, an’ do 
whatever you want to with it. Ef it’s to mek it 
fit fer Heaven, all right; but I tell you honest. 
Lord, I’m ’shamed to ast sech a big job o’ you 
when I have served you so bad. I tell you I am I 
So ef you don’t want to undertake it, I won’t 
blame you.” 

Voices were heard on the stairs. Bruce en- 
tered the room, bringing Dr. Grose with him. 

"Good-morninjsr, good-morning,” the doctor 
said, cheerily. "Why, Uncle Dan, what are you 
doin’ sick?” 

"I dunno.” 

Dr. Grose seated himself by the fire and 
warmed. Then he went to the bed, and Captain 
Morgan offered his chair. 

"Bruce thinks I orter have some o’ yer truck,” 
said Uncle Dan, "but it ain’t no use. Doctor. 
You’d better save it fer some other feller what 
won’t mek a die of it, an’ waste it all.” 

"You are not going to treat me that way, I 
know,” said the doctor, beginning to count Uncle 
Dan’s pulse-beats. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


319 


“Yes, he's pretty sick," said Dr. Grose to Bruce, 
who had followed him out of the room; “but I 
think we can pull him through. A good deal de- 
pends on the nursing.” 

“Well, he shall have that; at least the best that 
I can give him.” 

A week passed. Uncle Dan lingered, but he 
had grown gradually worse. One day Captain 
Morgan called, carrying with him a bit of dainty 
nourishment which Helen had prepared. Uncle 
Dan bade the captain place the dish on the table 
along with the medicines, and said : 

“It ain't no use to waste that either. I take 
the medicine to satisfy Bruce and the doctor, an' 
I'll take some o' the other after a while, thinkin' 
mebbe I'm satisfyin' Miss Helen. Now, Captain, 
you set down here by the bed. I want to tell you 
somethin' what seems sorter like satisfyin' you.” 

The captain seated himself, and Uncle Dan con- 
tinued : 

“Now I b'lieve all you said 'bout the Lord bein' 
able to change folks so they ain't their ole se'ves. 
I b'lieve eve'y word of it. I don't b'lieve you ever 
tole me a single yarn 'bout none of it. I don't 
b'lieve you ever did. T'other day when the par- 
son come to see me, an' ast me what he did, an' 
baptized me, fer I wanted to do all what the Lord 
commanded, so fur as I had the time left to do it 
in, I sez, T wisht I could work fer the Lord.' 
Actually work fer Him, Captain, an' I meant it. 
I expected the parson to look 'stonished, but he 
never. He acted like he knowed jes' how it would 


320 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


be. I reckon it ain’t the first time he’s seen a 
onery feller made to want to work. It’s jes’ like 
you sez, Captain, I’ve been made to want to work 
fer Him. I never could b’lieve I could be made 
to before. I never could. I know now you don’t 
tell no yarns ’t all ’bout it. I know you don’t!” 
Uncle Dan coughed. After resting for a few min- 
utes, he talked on : 

“I’ve been a-thinkin’. Captain, a-wonderin’ what 
it is they do Over There. It don’t seem to me 
that it’s hardly likely all of ’em play on harps an’ 
walk up an’ down the golden streets all the time. 
It don’t seem likely, I say. Per I ain’t never been 
able to strike a tune here, an’ I know good many 
others what ain’t. So it ain’t likely, I ’low, that 
the angels what kin play will think that mine is 
fitten to go ’long with theirn. O’ course ef the 
Lord wants me to play on a harp. He’ll fix the 
tune all right. But jes’ walkin’ the golden streets. 
Captain, that seems like it was too lazy a way fer 
angels to do unless it was them what hadn’t done 
nothin’ fer Him here, an’ hadn’t growed strong 
’nough to do hard work there. Why, Captain, ef 
they have any fishin’ or huntin’ goin’ on there, I 
won’t be strong enough to hold a fishin’-pole or 
carry a gun, will I?” He coughed a hard, tight 
cough. Then he said : 

“Captain, when you come Over There, I don’t 
want to miss seein’ you. Won’t you look about 
fer a little bit of a weak angel? One what looks 
like Uncle Dan did here, though better lookin’, 
but pow’ful small taters ’long the side o’ yerse’f 
an’ t’other big angels what put in their time a- 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


321 


workin’ fer Him while they was here. Won’t you, 
Captain? I’ll count it mighty clever of you, jes’ 
like I count what you’ve done fer me here, an’ 
what you tried to do fer me some time ago. I 
don’t expect to git to neighbor with you much 
Over There, fer you’ll be among the big bugs, an’ 
so many will be wantin’ to visit you an’ talk with 
you ’bout what ruks you went by to win yer suc- 
cess. They’ll be a-wantin’ to write you up in the 
papers Over There. They’ll put my name in the 
news column, whoever meets me at the station, 
but there won’t be nothin’ else fer ’em to put in.” 

Bruce moved away from the bedside to re- 
plenish the fire. Uncle Dan’s long-stemmed, 
open-faced watch hung over the mantel ; the 
hands pointed to quarter past ten. 

^Wou’d better stop talking now, don’t you 
think ?” Bruce said. 

After a short time. Captain Morgan went home. 
Uncle Dan said : 

^^Bruce, boy, I know you think I orter keep still, 
but my time it’s growin’ short. I want to talk to 
you while I still know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

“Well, go on then,” said Bruce. 

“My papers is back there in the bureau-drawer. 
I had ’em fixed up, fer I’ve knowed fer sometime 
that this was a-comin’, though I didn’t know, o’ 
course, that it ’ud be through pneumonia. I 
knowed I was a-goin’ to die, an’ I knowed it wasn’t 
ve’y fur off. 

“I’ve left my money to you. It ain’t ve’y much ; 
it won’t nigh pay you fer what you’ve done fer me, 
21 


322 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


not nigh. Now, boy, Fm goin’ to ast you, fer I 
know you ain’t a needin’ money, ef you won’t take 
some of it, an’ give it to the Lord in some way. 
I haven’t got no time to figger out how, bein’ so 
unused to doin’ it, but you kin fix it — ^jes’ git Cap- 
tain to help you.” 

'‘I’ll use all of it in that way if you say so; at 
least I’ll turn it over to the captain and let him 
use it.” 

"I ain’t a-astin’ that, boy, but it’ll be yourn, an’ 
you kin do as you please with it. I jes’ want the 
Lord to know that I do ’preciate His goodness at 
the las’ anyhow, ef I ain’t got no way to show it 
’cept by astin’ somebody else to do fer Him. 

"My ole clo’es, they is fer Tom. An’ I bought 
a nice caliker dress pattern what I want you to 
give to Aunt Jane. I laid it away in the bureau- 
drawer ’long with the papers. My cuff-buttons 
an’ my gold-headed cane is fer Captain Morgan. 
There is some silver spoons o’ my mother’s in the 
drawer, they is fer Mrs. Morgan. The gold pin 
was my mother’s; that’s fer Miss Helen. My 
watch, it was my father’s, an’ it is fer — now, boy, 
it’s fer yer little feller, the oldest one. An’ there 
is a little ring in the drawer fer the little girl, the 
one what’s most like her mother. There’s some 
other trinkets in there too ; you kin divide them. 
I couldn’t bear not leavin’ nothin’ to yer little 
chaps. This suit o’ furniture, what you was so 
kind to lemme fetch ’long with me, it was my 
mother’s too, an’ it was a fine one in its day. Now 
it’s yer weddin’ present from Uncle Dan.” 

"But suppose I never marry?” said Bruce. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


323 


“And if I should, suppose I should not marry her 
— Miss Helen, you are thinkin’ about?” 

Uncle Dan did not heed the inquiries, but con- 
tinued : 

“Tell the little chillun, boy, that Uncle Dan 
said fer ’em to let the Lord mek their hearts clean 
while they air little. Fer ’em not to wait till their 
hearts growed worse an’ worse, an’ till they was 
’most ready to die. I wisht I could tell ’em so 
myse’f, fer I’m afeard you won’t. But be sure to 
tell ’em that, boy — be sure to. 

“Now I reckon while my head’s still clear, I jes’ 
as well have a word with Aunt Jane an’ Tom.” 

“Don’t you think you had better rest a while 
first?” asked Bruce. 

“No; jes’ call ’em in.” 

When Aunt Jane and Tom stood by the bed, 
weeping. Uncle Dan said : 

“I want to tell you all good-by. I’m goin where 
I won’t trouble you no more. Aunt Jane. You’ve 
done me some good turns, both o’ you. I’m 
obleeged to you fer ’em.” 

“Please, Miste’ Dan, ef you’ll jes stay wid us till 
nex’ hog killin’ I won’t mek you wuk so,” sobbed 
Aunt Jane. 

“Never mind. Aunt Jane, I’ve forgive you. But 
when Mr. Bruce fetches his wife here, you mustn’t 
treat her that a-way.” 

“I ain’ gwine to. I ain’.” 

“Good-by, Tom; do all the right things what 
you know to do, an’ don’t do none o’ the wrong 
ones what you know is wrong,” said Uncle Dan, 


324 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


taking Tom’s hand. ''Good-by, Aunt Jane ; come 
to Heaven to see me.” 

"You won’t have nothin’ ’t all to do dah, will 
you ?” asked Aunt Jane. 

"I dunno, but I hope so.” 

"Course hit wuz so,” said Aunt Jane to Tom 
that night as they sat before the fireplace in the 
kitchen. "Dyin’ folks wouldn’t say hit ef it wuzn’t 
so. He alius acted some like he mought wuk 
ef it wuzn’t so hard fer him. Hit wuz de flesh 
what wuz weak. He mought ’a’ been different ef 
he hadn’t been made jes’ dat a- way. Anyhow, 
he’s ’most a angel now.” 

"He wuz alius might)^ good to me,” declared 
Tom ; "he alius wuz.” 

During the early part of the night Uncle Dan 
asked frequently for his mother. At times he 
mistook some one in the room for her. A neigh- 
bor and Dr. Grose watched with Bruce. 

"Did you fetch that from the spring?” Uncle 
Dan asked once when Bruce moistened his lips. 
About daybreak he faltered : 

"Yes, mother, I’m cornin’.” 

And his spirit fled to join hers. 

The news that Tom carried to Captain Morgan 
was a source of genuine sorrow to each member of 
the household. 

When the captain returned home about noon, he 
said : 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


325 


“There ought to be some woman or other there. 
You don’t feel like going, do you, mother?” 

“I had a bad night last night. And I’m afraid 
the shock this mornin’ has left me unfit for riskin’ 
anything more to-day.” 

Mrs. Morgan was no stronger now than she 
was four months before. And recently she had 
learned that she was about as well as she need ex- 
pect ever to be. Helen continued to shield her 
mother, and when Captain Morgan thus spoke, 
Helen knew that it was she who must go. So she 
prepared herself and went along with her father. 

Bruce decided to have the funeral at the house. 
He advised with Helen concerning the arrange- 
ments. 

Aunt Jane, respecting her promises to the dead, 
executed Helen’s commands as though the wife 
had arrived already. 

Toward night Helen left with her father for 
home. Driving away from the stile, she heard the 
lowing of the cows as they came slowly through 
the pasture to the bars; the call of a turkey as it 
returned to its night’s lodging-place on the roof 
of the buggy-house; the clatter of the ducks as 
they gathered in their pens ; the cluck of a hen as 
she hovered her only chick for the night. The re- 
frain of this evening song, “Rest, rest,” seemed 
to her like the echo of the voice that was now sil- 
ent. The sorrow for the loss surged through her 
afresh. 

On the following morning she gathered all the 
flowers in the yard and fashioned them into a 
wreath. “I can scarcely believe we’ll never hear 


326 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


his step on the veranda again, just coming in to 
sit a while,” she said to her mother when she had 
finished the wreath. Just before she left home 
she plucked the white rose from the pot in the 
window. This, too, she carried with her. 

The coffin was beneath the portrait of Bruce’s 
uncle in the parlor. Helen laid the wreath on the 
casket. Then she tucked the rose inside the coffin 
as her more personal tribute to the dead. As she 
finished, a voice beside her said : 

‘‘Miss Helen, I want to put this somewhere. 
It’s the only thing in bloom on the place. ‘Winter 
pinks,’ Uncle Dan called ’em.” But Bruce did not 
think at the time that the man whose memory he 
thus honored had been the only person dwelling 
there whose soul had blossomed into life. That 
soul-blossom, too, might well be termed a winter- 
pink. Bruce only continued: “The flowers I got 
from the florist’s don’t seem the same hardly. 
What must I do with these?” 

Helen took the small bunch and placed it beside 
the rose. 

Uncle Dan was laid away that afternoon — it was 
Sunday — in the little graveyard on the hillside. 
The awful thump of the clods upon his coffin was 
heard. The flowers were placed on the grave. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Bruce had heard of the party. Indeed, he had 
been invited to it, but he did not wish to go. The 
thought of it, however, revived certain memories, 
making him too restless to remain at home and 
read. So he put on a fresh collar and clean cuffs, 
slipped into his Sunday coat, and drove away to 
call on Helen Morgan. He had known Helen all 
her life, had lived neighbor to her, and had been 
at her home frequently, but he had never gone be- 
fore especially to see her. Now as he drove along, 
he wondered why he had never called on her, but 
he found no better reason than that he had never 
thought of going. 

Helen believed that she heard the sound of 
buggy-wheels. And she endeavored to strain her 
ears beyond the crackling of the fresh coal in the 
grate. '‘Yes, it is a buggy,” she thought, "and 
Tm disappointed because he didn’t come in a 
sleigh.” She moved a figure on the mantel-piece, 
looked at her image in the glass over a picture, 
and made a movement at smoothing back the ring- 
lets about her face. Then she went to the front 
door. 

When she saw Bruce Turner instead of her 
escort to the party, she was somewhat embar- 
rassed, for she did not know into which room she 
should invite him. But Bruce hung his overcoat 
and hat on the rack in the hall and disposed of 
himself by walking into the parlor. Then he too 
became embarrassed. But he reasoned within 


328 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


himself that young men called on young women 
with intentions no more serious than that of en- 
joying a pleasant conversation, and that young 
women received these visits with no other thought 
than that of passing the time pleasantly. 

A volume of Wordsworth lay on the table by 
the lamp. Upon seeing it, Bruce was reminded 
of a subject to talk about. 

Helen replied to a remark by saying, “You are 
an admirer of Wordsworth, then?” She seated 
herself by the fire, thinking, “I should have known 
it.” 

As Bruce answered, he glanced around him, 
marveling at the taste displayed in the furnishing 
of the room. It was the first time that he had 
ever been in there. 

Until Helen’s comments on the book, Bruce 
thought of her as having no opportunity of late 
years to cultivate her mind if, indeed, she had the 
desire. Having discovered that she exercised 
good taste in reading, he wished to extend his 
investigations, and so he said : 

“Good books afford unalloyed pleasure, don’t 
they? Some one else has said something like 
that, but it is so true it will bear repeating.” 

“They certainly do, and more besides,” said she. 
“Good books are tools with which to build one’s 
character, with which to shape one’s destiny. 
If one can read but a short time each day and will 
read something of real worth he will be broadened 
and strengthened mentally and spiritually. Oh, 
I’m so glad when the long winter nights come ! I 
have a good opportunity then to read.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


329 


Bruce compared this remark with the things he 
had heard other girls say. Then he thought of 
Camilla, whom he had regarded as the sprightliest 
and most fascinating of the number, and knew that 
she never had shown reflection or serious purpose 
in life. At length he asked : 

“You refer to the pursuit of some special 
subject, not to desultory reading?” He watched 
the fine play of expression on her face which the 
interest of the subject together with the interest 
in her companion brought out. 

“That way will secure better mental training 
perhaps, but if one hasn’t the facilities for it, he can 
usually get hold of something which will provoke 
thought. Then he can think on a subject, and think 
all around it. It’s thinking that does the work. At 
least — but what do you say about it ?” 

“If I speak what I have in mind, I’ll say that I am 
very content to listen to what you say about it. For 
you persuade me that girls do think sometimes, that 
their decisions are not always results of emotions. 
More correctly speaking. I’m persuaded that one 
young lady of my acquaintance thinks — actually 
thinks out her own problems. What a discovery ! 
People who make wonderful discoveries, let’s see ? 
What happens to them? Can’t you think 

“Now if I had foreseen this turn, I should never 
in the world have afforded the Turner an oppor- 
tunity for fame.” 

“Why, Miss Helen, I beg your pardon, but bril- 
liancy and excellent reasoning faculties is a rare 
combination, isn’t it?” 

“Why do you make sport of my serious-minded- 


330 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


ness?” She rose, for she heard a rap on the front 
door. 

Bruce heard the knock too. The reason for the 
fire in the parlor flashed through his mind, and so 
he said : 

“Oh Miss Helen, you are going to the party ! Fm 
glad I came early then, but I’m not so glad I have 
to leave early. May I come back Thursday even- 
ing and stay longer?” 

She told him that he might come. Then she 
admitted Harry Foster, a short, stout youth with 
a sparse covering of down upon his upper lip. 

Soon Bruce left, and Helen drove off in a sleigh 
with Harry. 

The sleet on the snow made sleighing delight- 
ful. The grainy particles on the ground glistened 
under the light of the full moon, and the ice pen- 
dants on the trees glittered. A wire fence along 
the roadside looked to Helen like a lace pattern 
in jewels. Even the chime of the sleigh-bells 
added to her pleasure. Only one note of discord 
did she hear, and that she was ashamed to think 
of as such ; for her escort was endeavoring honest- 
ly to entertain her. But her thoughts were 
occupied with the beauty about her and with her 
companion of the earlier part of the evening, so 
that she was really unable to attend to what Harry 
said. And when Harry remarked : 

“I saw Miss Camilla’s beau in town this after- 
noon,” because it seemed the easiest thing to say, 
Helen asked : 

“And what did you think of him?” 

“He’s a dandified-looking little fellow, right 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


331 


pleasant manners, but — bui: rather small, I think/' 
He spoke in the doubtful tones of a young brother 
seeking the expression of the maturer judgment 
of an older and highly valued sister. 

Catching the tones, she responded in the spirit 
of the elder sister: 

“You don’t know anything positively against 
him, do you? He may be as fine as his manners 
are.” 

Then Harry, thrusting his opinion more boldly 
to the front, said : 

“He may be, but I don’t believe it.” 

“What is his occupation?” asked Helen. 

“Why, he is a clerk in one of those big stores 
in the city.” 

Other sleigh-bells chimed out on the cold, still 
air. Helen and Harry saw a sleigh enter the lane 
in front of theirs. Other sleighs came down the 
hill and entered afterwards. 

Camilla smiled as she welcomed her guests, but 
Helen saw that the bow of scarlet ribbon for which 
Camilla showed such fondness had a drapery of 
black net veiling. 

The large parlor was well filled when the last 
couple arrived. 

The young people talked gaily as a company 
of the kind will. Helen observed that all eyes 
wandered at times to the stranger, Mr. Tune. 

After a short time several small tables were 
moved from the corners of the room and from 
the hall adjacent. Around these the guests 
gathered to play euchre. Very nearly every one 
had played when a young matron said to Helen : 


332 AMONG THE MEADOWS 

“What a pity you don’t play.” 

In a sense Helen felt the need of sympathy, for 
she was beginning to regard herself, as she 
thought other people must regard her, as useless 
to the company. 

Nina Crane was present to assist in entertain- 
ing. And Joel and little Annie were permitted 
to stay up to look on. 

From time to time the children moved about 
the room, conscious that they “should be seen and 
not heard.” They whispered to each other, and 
replied shyly to the questions asked them. 

Helen called the little ones to the sofa near the 
fire. 

“What do you think of all this?” she asked. 
“Do you like it as well as Santa Claus’s coming?” 

“Not quite,” answered Joel; “for he brings 
things.” 

“He brought me the most beautifullest doll last 
night,” said little Annie. 

Pointing to the stranger, Joel whispered : 

“Cousin Helen, he told me he was goin’ to be 
our uncle.” And both children laughed. 

“But maybe you oughtn’t tell,” said Helen. 

“Oh, that won’t matter,” said Joel. “Mr. Bruce 
told us that too, but he never was, and I don’t be- 
lieve this one will be either.” 

“I hope not,” said little Annie, somewhat 
louder. 

“What are you hoping about?” asked Camilla, 
coming near the fire. 

Joel laughed, but little Annie looked sober. 
And Helen said : 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 


333 


“I’m learning your secrets.” 

“I hopes he won’t be my uncle,” remarked little 
Annie; “he’s too mushy.” 

“Well, don’t tell anybody else anything about 
it,” pleaded Camilla. “I’m glad it happened to 
be Cousin Helen this time.” Camilla laughed and 
looked at Helen. 

“I shall not tell,” said Helen, laughing in re- 
turn. 

“What have you all found here by yourselves 
that’s so amusing?” asked Nina, coming up. “Ca- 
milla, you all had better eat now,” she said. Then 
she went to the players and told them to lay by 
their cards until after supper. 

A large bunch of mistletoe showed above the 
picture which hung over the mantel in the dining- 
room, and another above the picture which was 
on the wall opposite. A miniature holly-tree, 
hanging heavy with berries, decorated the table. 
Dishes of candy, of fruits, and of nuts, and plates 
of cake were also on the table. Seats were ar- 
ranged around the wall. 

While Helen ate, she observed the group of 
matrons at the door. And she wondered if she 
could tell something of the manner in which these 
women regarded the pleasures of early life. One 
woman watched the young people, hoping that 
they would get from these early experiences what 
she had obtained — contentment. There was an- 
other who had lost sympathy with such pleasures 
when she herself was done with them. Still an- 
other looked on, thinking that she would select 
her sweetmeats differently if she could but pass 


334 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


the way again. And another, who, from her own 
experience, thought that the pleasures of middle 
life were greater than those to be found sooner. 
Another looked on, believing that the early en- 
joyments were the best. She realized, however, 
that there were pleasures all along life’s road, but 
some of these she had failed to recognize as such 
until she had passed them. 

“Now, Miss Helen, what is your opinion?” 
asked Harry. 

“If what the children spoke of should occur, in 
what manner will Camilla look back on this even- 
ing?” thought Helen. Then she said: 

“About what, Harry?” 

“What we were speaking of as we came on.” 

“Unless I knew something more about him, I 
shouldn’t like to express an opinion.” 

“You don’t believe there is anything in a first 
impression ?” 

“I believe it may be very incorrect sometimes.” 

“But sometimes it is very correct. I see you 
don’t want to commit yourself, but I know what 
your opinion is anyhow; and that’s just mine.” 

“But, Harry, I haven’t told you mine.” 

“I know you haven’t, but if it were favorable, 
you zvoiild tell it.” 

Helen smiled. 

Camilla and Mr. Tune rose, and led the way 
back to the parlor. 


When all the guests, except Howard, had gone, 
Camilla sat down at the piano. She played the 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


335 


selections which she had played on a previous oc- 
casion when another lover listened near her. And 
she thought of that other evening when she had 
broken her engagement with Bruce Turner. And 
a strong desire arose to set aside her promise to 
Howard Tune and draw another breath of sweet 
liberty. She stopped in the middle of a piece and 
drew the black net veiling which covered the bow 
of scarlet ribbon. 

‘‘That’s exquisite !” declared Howard, bending 
his shoulders over one end of the square piano on 
which his elbows rested. 

At the sound of his voice, Camilla let the veil 
fall over the bow, and commenced playing. 
“Bruce never called my playing exquisite,” she 
thought ; “for he knew it wasn’t. But this one, if 
he knew good playing from bad, which he doesn’t, 
would call mine good, thinking his insincerity 
would please me. I can live in the city, though, 
where I can see something besides cows and pigs 
and chickens, and hear something besides the din- 
ner-bell.” And she smiled, but she did not know 
at what. 

A door slammed, and Camilla knew that her 
mother wished Mr. Tune to leave. So she rose 
from the piano-stool, went to the fire, and punched 
down the coals in the grate. 

“I guess we’d better not put on any more fuel,” 
said he, following her to the hearth. 

“You don’t think I intend to?” she thought. 
But she stood the poker in the corner without an- 
swering. 

He then went into the hall. 


336 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


Camilla, seeing Howard return with his over- 
coat, stopped beneath the swinging lamp. How- 
ard, observing his sweetheart beneath the mistle- 
toe in the frame of the lamp, dropped his great- 
coat, put his arms around her and kissed her. 

‘'You impudent man!” she exclaimed, and her 
face burned with resentment. 

“Now, don’t!” pleaded he. “That’s a privilege 
which the mistletoe offered. Anyhow, I don’t be- 
lieve any other fellow was ever engaged to a girl 
for four months without kissing her.” 

“You don’t? Well, how much do you know 
about it? You have never told me about the other 
girls you have been engaged to.” 

“I have never been engaged to any other, but 
I’ve heard fellows talk about it.” 

“They talk about it then, do they?” said Ca- 
milla, straightening back her shoulders with an 
air of defiance. 

“Some of them do when they fall out with the 
girl, but I wouldn’t. I think it’s mean. Besides, 
you know it’s only three months now until I come 
to take you back with me.” 

“When you come, then it will be time enough,” 
she said as she would have pacified the pleadings 
of a child with fair promises. She seated herself 
on the arm of a large chair. 

“I know you are the best girl in the world,” 
Howard said. And all the goodness of his soul 
showed in his face. “I would like though to have 
one voluntary kiss before I go. I have to return 
to duty in the morning, you know, and I’ll not 
have another opportunity to see you until I come 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


337 


to marry you. It will help me to be better. I’ll 
live true to it, Camilla, when I’m away from you. 
I promise you I will.” 

Camilla sat silent for a time, thinking, ^‘If there 
were any other way for me to get out, I would 
confess the truth to him. For I’m ashamed to re- 
ceive all that he has to offer, and give — what in 
return? Oh, oh! I would give the world to be 
able to give him what he gives me! Yes, I’d give 
the world to love him!” 

“Won’t you?” pleaded he. 

“Once,” she said. 

He stooped and kissed her. She thought, “Mar- 
riage is the only way open for me to the world, 
and who would blame me?” 

After Howard left, Camilla went to her room. 
She took off the bow of scarlet ribbon and ar- 
ranged the black net veiling over it, thinking as 
she did so: “It’s hardly probable that he thinks 
only of me. He knows that father has a good 
property. I believe he really loves me now, but 
I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been so strongly 
attracted to me in the beginning if he hadn’t 
thought there would be some money too. So I 
reckon we are not so uneven after all. Anyhow, 
he’s my bridge to the world. But oh, oh, what a 
way ! what a way !” 


A week later, Mrs. Morgan said to Camilla : 
“You’d better have had Bruce Turner; he’s 
heap the best chance.” Then her head went back 
22 


338 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


and her chin came down. “If you don’t see it 
now, you will see it after a while.” 

“Mother, you forg-et that I’m going to be a city 
lady,” said Camilla. She skipped across the floor, 
humming a merry tune. 

“Girls is such fools!” declared Mrs. Morgan. 
“This is better, though, than never marryin’ ’t 
all,” she thought. Then she put the hem, which 
she had just laid, under the foot of the sewing- 
machine, and stitched away on the wedding petti- 
coat. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Prohibition had been agitated in Meadowville, 
and great interest had been created throughout 
the voting district. 

Among the people desiring the sale of liquor to 
continue, was Bruce Turner. Bruce owned two 
houses in the town, one of which was rented for 
a saloon. For a time he took no active measures 
against the opposing faction. But fearing that the 
prohibition movement would succeed, he at length 
put forth all his efforts against it. At first he re- 
fused to employ some of the means frequently 
used to secure votes, but finally he bought votes 
with whisky and with money. On the morning 
of the election he left home early to put in a full 
day’s work. 

In endeavoring to gain a vote, Bruce said: 

‘'You know which side will bring the money 
into the place, don’t you?” 

“But Captain Morgan says I ought to vote the 
other way, and keep whisky away from the peo- 
ple,” replied Alf Williams. “He says people are 
more apt to make a livin’ when their brains ain’t 
addled by it.” 

“What did he give you?” 

“Oh, he never give me nothin’.” 

“Well, here,” said Bruce, running his hand into 
his pocket, “take this. Now you tell Pat Mac- 
Carthy if he and his friends don’t want to go off 
somewhere to get a drink, they’d better vote for 
the antis.” 


340 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


^'All right, sir.” 

Bruce threaded his way to Sam Wells. 

‘‘Do you think prohibition here will keep men 
from drinking liquor?” he asked. 

“I dunno. Captain Morgan said it wouldn’t be 
so convenient : it would do some good.” 

“But then don’t you believe if they want it 
they will go somewhere else to buy it ?” 

“I dunno ’bout that.” 

“They would. It would be just the means of 
sending money out of the town. Captain didn’t 
offer to do anything for you, did he? I’ll let you 
have that steer you wanted. I didn’t want to sell 
him yet, but I’ll let you have him. Now go talk 
to Sam Reed. See which side he’s on; see that 
he’s on the right side.” 

“I’ll do that.” 

In a few minutes Bruce laid his hand on the 
shoulder of Moses Emmons, and said : 

“You know which side stands for the interest 
of the community, don’t you?” 

“I thought I did ; but Captain Morgan he sez 
gittin’ saloons out o’ reach will help keep the boys 
from learnin’ to drink. I’ve got a little feller o’ 
my own cornin’ on, you know, an’ I don’t want 
him to learn to like it.” 

“If the saloons here are closed, don’t you sup- 
pose whisky will be brought from some other 
place?” argued Bruce. “Because it is a little hard 
to get, don’t you think the boys will be more anx- 
ious for it?” He felt a blush of shame mantle his 
cheeks. 

“I hadn’t thought of it that way; mebbe so.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


341 


“You vote the other way; I’ll rent you that 
ground for tobacco that we were talking about the 
other day.” 

“You will? I need that ground bad.” 

“I won’t charge you big rent either.” 

“Well, I do need it bad.” 

“I’m ready to let you have it.” 

“Very well. I’ll vote as you say, and take it.” 

Dave Lacy replied to Bruce’s inquiry: 

“Captain Morgan said that a free use of liquor 
would keep any man from havin’ the honor what 
he orter have. I never touch it myse’f, an’ I tole 
him so. But he sez that a feller orter try to keep 
other people from losin’ their honor ef ’tis by jes’ 
castin’ a vote.” 

“What is Captain Morgan goin’ to give you 
for upholding the honor of other men?” 

“Nothin’, I reckon. He never said nothin’ ’bout 
it.” 

“Wouldn’t two dollars and a half be worth more 
to you than the honor of a dozen men? Their 
honor will not put anything in your pocket, will 
it?” 

“Not that I kin see; but he’s about made me 
think that a man of honor wouldn’t sell his vote. 
I’ve always been a-makin’ somethin’ off mine be- 
fore.” 

“Here, you have this money.” 

“Turner, I say I’ve always been used to gittin’ 
somethin’ fer mine, but the captain says it ain’t 
honorable.” 

“Oh, never mind the captain.” 

Dave accepted the money, and Bruce said: 


342 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


‘‘You go find out how Harry Jones stands. 
There are several negroes who will vote the way 
he tells them. Have Harry give ’em a drink 
around. I’ll pay for the liquor. Go on and talk 
to him, and I’ll be round there myself directly to 
see him.” 

Dan Walker, a prominent man, came up to 
Bruce and said: 

“I know where I can use fifteen dollars to ad- 
vantage if you will let me have that amount.” 
Bruce responded to the request, but Mr. Walker 
used the money for his personal benefit. 

The next person to whom Bruce spoke was Al- 
vin Bridges. And Alvin said: 

“Captain Morgan jes’ reminded me that it was 
the saloon I owed the wrecked home of my daugh- 
ter to. Her husband gits the liquor right here, 
an’ goes home an’ beats her. He spends all the 
money he kin git hold of that way, an’ leaves her 
an’ the children without hardly anything to eat 
an’ no clo’es to speak of. No, sir, I don’t take 
none o’ yer money this time. All I’ve ever took 
fer votin’ fer the saloons ain’t made it no better 
fer her in the end. So I’m goin’ to try the other 
way now. I’m goin’ to vote agin ’em, sir. I am.” 

“I thought you wanted that position in the 
store,” said Bruce. “I can secure it for you, and 
then you can take care of your daughter yourself.” 

“I do want that place, sir. You wouldn’t turn 
down a fellow that you could do so much fer just 
because he wouldn’t vote your way, would you?” 

“I can get the place for somebody who will vote 
my way.” 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


343 


“Don’t nobody need it worse than I do for my 
daughter an’ her little children.” 

“Well, then you ought to do the right thing to 
get it.” 

“Vote fer the whisky?” 

“Yes; I’ll get you the place then.” 

“No, sir; I don’t vote fer no whisky. I don’t.” 

Bruce turned away, thinking of what Captain 
Morgan said to him in the beginning of the cam- 
paign : 

“If you don’t fight the devil, don’t fight for him. 
Not fighting him, though, is in a manner fighting 
for him.” 

But coming upon Bob Glass, Bruce stopped to 
speak to him. Bob replied: 

“Captain Morgan has jes’ recalled to my mind 
what killed my wife four years ago. Dick would 
take his toddy ever since he was growed up, an’ 
some before. Finally he got to drinkin’ hard, an’ 
his maw would lay ’wake o’ nights waitin’ fer him 
to come in. When he ’ud come, she would say, 
'Richard’ (she always called him Richard), ‘I’m so 
glad you’ve come, my boy. Yer bed’s a-waitin’ 
fer you.’ Then she would git up, an’ go help him 
off to bed, an’ come back an’ cry the rest of the 
night many a time. After while she got sick, an’ 
the doctor said it was jes’ that — it was her heart 
what was broke over Dick. She died. Dick he 
quit drinkin’ then, but it was too late to heal up 
her heart. No, sir, I don’t vote fer no whisky. I 
uster, that’s what the captain knowed, but I don’t 
do it now.” And he wiped his eyes on the sleeve 
of his striped cotton shirt. 


344 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


Bruce went off wondering, '‘Has Captain Mor- 
gan spoken to everybody here to-day?” There 
were other men working for prohibition, but none 
of them were fighting more valiantly than the 
captain was. 

There was a house near the centre of the town 
which had stood vacant for a time. On this occa- 
sion, though, the ladies of one of the churches sold 
ice-cream and cake there. During the afternoon 
Bruce observed a party of men carrying some one 
into the building. Then he saw Dr. Grose hurry- 
ing along. Overtaking the doctor, Bruce asked, 
"Somebody sick?” 

"Captain Morgan.” 

"Captain Morgan? What’s up?” 

"Knocked down.” 

"Knocked down!” ejaculated Bruce. 

Bob Glass, to whom Bruce had talked in the 
morning, said: 

"He had a fight a while ago.” 

"Captain Morgan never fought,” said Bruce, 
warmly. 

"I never seen him,” said Bob; "but Harry 
Jones tole me that he seen Mr. Nealy knock him 
down, an’ he ’sposed the captain hit him.” 

Mr. Nealy was an anti-prohibition leader, but 
Bruce said: 

"Whoever did it is to blame for it, and not Cap- 
tain Morgan.” 

"I thought you was workin’ agin the captain,” 
said Bob. 

"I’rn working against prohibition, not against 
Captain Morgan.” And Bruce strode off rapidly 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


345 


to do whatever he could for his highly esteemed 
friend. 

‘^Is he much hurt?’' he asked, wedging his way 
through the crowd at the door. 

“Pretty bad,” replied Jeff Goodwin, and 
added : “Nealy said that the captain was doin’ 
more harm than anybody else, and if he wasn’t 
stopped, the antis would be beat. He had some 
words with the captain, and finally knocked him 
down, and beat him up considerably. I don’t be- 
lieve the captain was to blame any in it. If it had 
been almost anybody else, I would think he might 
have been provoked to hit Nealy, cornin’ up the 
way Nealy did. But I don’t believe the captain 
was.” 

“I know he wasn’t,” said Bruce, pushing into 
the room. “Give me something to do for him,” 
he said to Dr. Grose, who was kneeling over the 
prostrate form. 

“Clear out the door, so he can get more air.” 

Bruce scattered the men from the doorway, and 
drove back the women who had gathered around. 

When Captain Morgan recovered from the 
faint, he asked: 

“Have the polls closed?” 

“No,” answered Bruce. 

“Can’t you fix me up. Doctor, so I can get out 
there again?” 

“You’ll have to quit now,” said the doctor; 
“but you’ll be all right for the next election. Have 
you got the bandage ready, Mrs. Crane ?” 

“Here it is.” And Nina handed the doctor the 
strip of cloth. Then she sent for her husband. 


346 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


Alvin came, and by and by assisted the captain 
in getting in Bruce Turner’s buggy. 

As Bruce drove along, he thought of more work 
that he might have done. But a groan from the 
captain called forth another expression of sympathy 
for him. 

“Does the jarring hurt your head much?” 

“It may be owing to the jarring, for my head 
feels as if it might split. I have the satisfaction 
of knowing though that I have done what I could, 
and so I’m content. For the remainder the Ford 
will take care of that; at least for my responsi- 
bility in it.” 

Bruce thought, “I’m not content, for I don’t 
know about the Lord taking care of my part in 
it.” 

“When we have done all that we can for the 
cause of the right, then our responsibility for it 
ceases, and not till then,” the captain observed. 

“Well, you ought to be satisfied,” said Bruce, 
laughing. 

“Are you, Bruce?” 

“Captain, we are both out of it now, and I tell 
you honestly, I think it will be pretty close, pretty 
close. I can’t tell whether I’m satisfied until I 
hear which way it goes.” 

“I mean after having done what you could for 
the cause of righteousness, are you satisfied about 
your personal responsibility for it?” 

Bruce regarded the question as unkind, for he 
had forsaken the cause which he advocated on the 
captain’s account. So he made no reply, but whipped 
up his horse, and drove the remainder of the way 
in silence. 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


347 


Helen sat on the veranda, reading. Upon see- 
ing her father’s bandaged head, she dropped her 
book and ran to the stile. 

“Don’t be alarmed, daughter,” the captain said; 
“and don’t let it distress your mother. Can’t I get 
in without her seeing me ?” 

But Mrs. Morgan was coming down the walk. 

“What does it mean?” Helen demanded of 
Bruce. 

“Just the election. Miss Helen. He will be all 
right in a little while.” 

“Did some drunken man strike him?” Helen 
asked, excitedly. 

“No, no. Miss Helen, the man wasn’t drunk. 
Don’t be alarmed.” 

“Wasn’t drunk! Some one in his right senses 
did it? But let’s take father where he can lie 
down.” 

She on one side and Bruce on the other assisted 
the captain to the house. 

Mrs. Morgan went ahead to put the bed in 
readiness. 

After Helen made her father as comfortable as 
she could, she went on the veranda, and gave vent 
to her distress in tears. 

When Bruce came out and found Helen crying, 
he said: 

“Don’t grieve; he is not seriously wounded. 
He’ll be well soon. I don’t think he’ll need much 
attention during the night, but maybe I’d better 
stay with him. I’ll go home now, and come back 
after a while.” 

“No, you needn’t,” she spoke up promptly. 


348 AMONG THE MEADOWS 

“Miss Helen, it will be better maybe. Just you 
and your mother here.’' 

“I don’t want you to,” she said indignantly. 
“You were partly the cause of his trouble.” 

“Miss Helen, I never struck him. I never had 
anything to do with it.” 

“You’ve been doing all you could against pro- 
hibition. I know you have.” 

“But that is a different thing, Miss Helen,” 
Bruce pleaded. 

“It is hardly different with him. I intend to sit 
by him myself to-night.” She rose and returned 
to the bedside. 

As Bruce drove homeward, he thought: “Well, 
I’ve seen another new feature of Miss Helen’s 
character — new to me. I admire her spunk, but 
she needn’t blame me. I never knocked her father 
down. Besides, I’ve done everything for him that 
I could. But a woman usually looks at things 
from a personal standpoint. However, I’m not 
going to let that keep me from doing what I can 
for the captain.” 

And night found Bruce stationed on one side 
of Captain Morgan’s bed and Helen on the other. 
Once Bruce said: 

“Miss Helen, you had better go and rest, don’t 
you think?” 

“I thought I said I was going to do the watch- 
ing,” she replied. But Bruce knew that Helen 
had relented somewhat toward him. 

Bruce watched the next night and the next, and 
called daily afterwards until the captain was out 
again. During one of the calls he and Captain 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


340 


Morgan were talking about the election, and the 
captain said : 

"'IVe thought maybe my getting hurt and tak- 
ing you away might have had something to do 
with the election going for prohibition.” 

Bruce said nothing, but swayed himself nerv- 
ously in the straight-backed chair. Captain Mor- 
gan continued: 

“I know people are talking about me having a 
fight. I would hate the reproach, I tell you I 
would, if it hadn’t been brought about for the sake 
of the Lord’s cause.” 

‘^But you never struck him?” queried Bruce. 
He did not doubt, however, the truth of his former 
assertion concerning the captain’s attitude. 

"'No; I never struck him at all. Nealy said that 
he would hit me if I didn’t quit workin’ for pro- 
hibition, or somethin’ to that eflFect. I told him I 
wouldn’t. I never would as long as there was 
anything that I could do. Then he struck me. 
You know what followed better than I do, I 
reckon. I’ll wear this scar, no doubt, as long as I 
live, but I wouldn’t take a gold mine for it and be 
without it. It’ll remind me of the Lord’s love for 
me. I’ll know He thought enough of me to ask' 
me to bear shame and violence for His sake. 
There’s joy in doin’ that.” 

"Then you don’t feel a bit like thrashin’ Nealy?” 
asked Bruce. 

"Why, no, of course I don’t. I pity him sin- 
cerely.” 

"What a man !” 


350 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


'What friendship you have shown for me dur- 
ing my sickness! I do appreciate it.” 

"I’ve always felt it for you, Captain; at least 
I can’t remember the time when I didn’t.” 

"I believe you.” 

"You don’t regard the situation, then, as Miss 
Helen thought you did?” 

"How’s that?” 

"Because I was of the opposing side, she re- 
fused at first to let me do anything for you.” And 
Bruce laughed. 

"Oh, did she? Well, I wish you were as loyal 
to your Master as you have been to me. I wish 
you were ! With your abilities you could do much 
good in the world. And you’ll have to give an 
account for the use of those abilities.” 

"It’s hard though for me not to put my financial 
interests first,” said Bruce. "I want to succeed 
in life.” 

"Have you extended your plans for success into 
the other world? You know it all doesn’t stop 
when we are through with this world.” 

"Extended plans for success into the other 
world? I’m afraid I haven’t been as long-sighted 
as that with all my business principles.” And he 
rose to go. 

"You will want perseverance, courage, good 
cheer, brotherly kindness, and other such business 
principles as you’ll find in Proverbs, in James, in 
Deuteronomy, in the twelfth chapter of Romans. 
Follow the principles which the Book gives, 
Bruce, and they will lead you to success, real suc- 
cess. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


One morning in January, Bruce set out to ride 
over his farm. He came to the little graveyard 
on the hillside, stopped at the fence, and looked 
at the monument which he had put over Uncle 
Dan’s grave. 

‘‘He would say, ‘It’s too fine fer me,’ ” thought 
Bruce. “But, dear old fellow, I haven’t paid half 
as much for it in dollars and cents as I’ve paid in 
regrets that I couldn’t help you in the way you 
wanted me to help you. You were saved, but not 
through my instrumentality.” Bruce turned and 
rode across the field, thinking : 

“If Uncle Dan had been living, maybe he would 
have kept me from fighting prohibition as I did. 
He had an eye for seeing things if he didn’t have 
a hand for doing them. I don’t wonder now that 
Miss Helen blamed me as she did when I took 
her father home wounded ; she had a right to. I 
was to blame in a measure, though I didn’t look 
at it in that way then. If I had fought for the right 
cause as Captain Morgan did, or as hard as I 
fought on the opposite side, probably he wouldn’t 
have been struck. What a big soul the captain 
has! I didn’t realize it before his sickness. Well, 
I have been trying since then to do as he bade me 
— to wield what force I have in the right direc- 
tion. But it’s about the most up-hill work I ever 
tried to do, I think. If Uncle Dan had lived on 
after his change, and I could have his encourage- 
ment, it might be easier. He would help me out 


352 


AMONG THB MHADOWS 


by his manner of seeing things, anyhow.” Bruce 
held his breath for an instant, as if he had run 
upon something suddenly which both startled 
and allured him. 

‘‘That was what Uncle Dan saw was the best 
thing for me to do — to marry her,” he thought. 
“I’m not worthy of her ; she’s so good. But I’ve 
always paid my debts. I’ve always told the truth, 
or ’most always. I never drank, but my! how I 
did fight for liquor to stay where other folks could 
get it. I never used vile language. Still I know 
I’m not as good as she is. But then I need a com- 
panion like her. Yes, I do. I need her encour- 
agement, her sympathy, and — her love. Yes, I 
do.” 

A few evenings afterwards Bruce decided to pay 
Helen a visit. He wondered why he had never 
wished until recently to make her his wife. For 
he knew then that she was the woman among 
women for him to marry. 

Captain Morgan answered Bruce’s request to 
see Helen, by saying: 

“She is not very well, and I don’t think I had 
better disturb her. Come in and talk to me and 
Mrs. Morgan.” 

Bruce accepted the invitation with another 
new thought piercing his brain. After several at- 
tempts to speak of the subject in mind, he said : 

“I want to ask you. Captain, and you, Mrs. Mor- 
gan, for your consent to marry Miss Helen, to win 
her.^ I know I’m not worthy of her, but I’m trying 
to live as I should. With her by my side I can get 
on better.” 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


353 


Silence ensued. And Bruce thought: 

“Here is this old couple with no one to lean on 
except Helen, and I’m hoping to take her away 
for the asking.” Then he said: 

“If you’ll let me be a son to you, I’ll be as duti- 
ful as I know how. I’ll learn of her. It’s been 
so long since I had father or mother that your 
places in my esteem will be next to hers, as indeed 
they are already.” 

“Oh, but, Bruce, Helen never intends to 
marry,” said Mrs. Morgan. “Besides, how could 
I ever get on without her?” 

“I appreciate your position, Mrs. Morgan, but 
she would still be a daughter to you.” 

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be the same,” said she, 
shaking her head. 

“Mother,” spoke the captain, “we mustn’t be 
selfish in the matter ; we must think of her. She 
is young, and yet she is old enough to decide this 
question for herself. She has all of life before her, 
while we have left the greater part of ours behind 
us.” He turned his face and brushed away a tear. 
Then he continued apologetically to Bruce ; 
“We’ve become so accustomed to living this way 
that we dread a change. A change goes hard with 
old people. And, besides, she is all we have, you 
know.” He took his handkerchief out of his 
pocket and wiped his eyes. 

“I’ll be good to her,” said Bruce, “as good as I 
know how.” 

“It’s not that I fear you won’t do your part,” 
said the captain. “If I thought you wouldn’t, I 
23 


354 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


would say very plainly. If you had asked this 
a year ago, I would have said, ‘Bruce, you are not 
trying to serve your Master’s interests as you 
should, and so I fear you won’t serve hers either.” 
But I can’t say that now, for I believe you are 
doing about the best you know. I believe you are. 
If her own heart agrees to it, I don’t know any- 
body I would as soon she would marry as you, 
Bruce.” 

“I can only express my appreciation of that. 
Captain, by trying to live up to what you think of 
me.” 

Bruce rose, stepped near Mrs. Morgan, and 
said : 

“Won’t you try to think of me as a son?” Then 
he left the room and went home. 

When Captain Morgan returned from closing 
the front door, Mrs. Morgan said: 

“I hope though she won’t want to marry him.” 

“Can you think of anvbody else that you would 
rather she would marry?” asked the captain. 

“No; he is a good man, and he is able to give 
her everything she wants.” Then she began to 
speculate concerning Bruce’s property. 

“Mother, you know it’s not his property that 
makes him worthy in our eyes,” said the captain. 
“You know it is not that. I’m glad of course that 
she will have an easier life than she’s had of late 
years.” 

“She can have everything she wants,” said the 
mother ; “but how can I get on without her ?” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


355 


On the following afternoon Bruce drove back 
to Captain Morgan's. 

Helen opened the door. When she answered 
Bruce concerning her indisposition of the previous 
evening, she observed a look in his eyes which 
thrilled her, one that she had never seen there be- 
fore. And when she invited him into her mother’s 
room, she saw a flush on his face. This she after- 
wards connected with her parents’ rising, as by 
mutual consent, quitting the room and leaving her 
alone with Bruce. 

The conversation turned into the channel in 
which it often flowed when Helen and Bruce 
talked together. Helen remarked: 

‘T’ve seen somewhere, if you know the books a 
person reads, you will know the person. I think 
there’s something in it. And I believe it’s just as 
true, if you know a person you will know who are 
his favorite authors without his telling you.” 

‘^But all people can not divine as well as that; 
they haven’t that power. T haven’t. I have to ask 
to know.” Then he drew up his chair by the side 
of hers. 


By and by he rose, and leaned against the man- 
telpiece. 

Helen thought: ^‘He must have flirted Camilla. 
So he might tire of me too. Then she said : 

‘Tt seems to me that love ought to be of longer 
standing than yours is for me to test its strength.” 
''You don’t doubt its sincerity?” 


3S6 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


'‘I don’t doubt that, but I do doubt its having 
strength enough to last.” 

''You surely know that I mean to be true to 
you. Surely, you don’t doubt that. Won’t you 
promise me?” He sat down by her. 

"I can’t promise,” she answered. 

"Well, won’t you promise to try to learn to love 
me a little ?” 

"No, no!” cried she. And she buried her face 
in her hands. 

"Not just a little bit, when I love you so much.” 
He drew one hand away from her face and held it 
close in his own. 

"Don’t, don’t!” she cried. "You have no idea 
what this means to me.” 

"What this means to you?” 

"O Bruce, Bruce! why will you inflict such suf- 
fering on me?” 

"Such suffering — how?” 

"Oh, don’t you understand?” 

"I understand that I love you.” 

"And that I love you? You have no concep- 
tion, I fear, how much.” 

"I have no conception! Well, we’ll see if you 
can outdo me in the matter.” They both laughed. 
Then he said : "Can’t you marry me next week ? 
How happy I am, my darling ! My darling.” And 
he kissed the hands which he held in his. 

Helen drew away her hands. And after a short 
time she said: 

"Now let’s talk sensibly.” 

"Very well. I believe I’m equal to ’most any- 


AMONG THU MBADOWS 


357 


thing now, even to that. At least I’ll do the best 
I can if you say so.” And he smiled. 

*‘Oh, Bruce, you misunderstood me !” There was 
pain in her tone. “While every word I said was 
true, too true, I shouldn’t have let you find it out.” 

“Shouldn’t have let me find it out?” 

“Yes; I know I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help 
it. Forgive me if I have done you an injury by 
doing so, for I can’t marry you.” 

“You can’t marry me? Why, my darling?” 

“Don’t make it hard for me. You know how 
we are situated here at home. Father and mother 
can not do without me. It wouldn’t be right for 
me to leave them. That is reason sufficient if there 
was nothing else.” 

“But I have already spoken to them about it, 
you see. Your father said that your own heart 
must decide the matter. Your own heart has de- 
cided. So, now !” 

“My dear, good father,” she said. “I know he 
would make any kind of sacrifice for my happi- 
ness, but I couldn’t be happy to have him do that.” 

“You don’t want to be miserable in order to be 
happy, do you?” 

“Listen ; while that is sufficient, it is not all. It 
may sound conceited to say so, but I think I owe 
it to you to tell you. I believe Nature intended 
me to become an artist. By turning aside, I am 
afraid I should not be able to fulfill my mission. 
I’ve no right to put any obstacles in the way.” 

“Would I be an obstacle? Well, I would try to 
be as small a one as possible anyhow.” 

“Yes, I know. Oh, why can’t you help me in- 


358 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


stead of making it hard for me! You know I love 
you, but I want to do what is right. Don’t you 
want me to be loyal to the higher side of my na- 
ture?” 

“Of course. But I can’t see that you wouldn’t 
be in marrying me. Doesn’t your conscience tell 
you that you owe anything to me?” 

“Don’t persuade me. I’ll have to think.” 

“What must I do? I can’t lose you. Think 
what that would mean to me. You don’t really 
believe that you can live a truer life without me, do 
you? You don’t, really?” 

Looking up at him, she said, brightly : 

“I’ll think over it, but don’t urge me now.” 

“You can tell me soon, can’t you?” 

“I don’t know.” 


One afternoon, three months later, when the 
hyacinths and tulips had bloomed, Bruce rode 
over to Captain Morgan’s. As he drew near the 
place he saw Helen at the spring. So he dis- 
mounted, tied his horse at the pike-gate, and 
walked down the path to meet her. 

A pile of rails lay near the spring. Here Bruce 
stopped, pushed back his hat, and said: 

“I would fill that bucket for you, but I like to 
watch you do it.” 

“I’ll quit,” Helen said, placing the dipper on the 
stone which covered the spring. 

“Then you want me to come?” said he. 

“No, no.” She took up the cup and commenced 
dipping the water. After a short time she rested 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


359 


her arm on the stone, and said, “Your Majesty is 
quite content now, I suppose?” 

“You don’t come all this way for half a bucket 
of water, I’m sure. But I’ll come and finish filling 
it if you want me to.” 

“I don’t want you to come ; no.” 

“I’m not going to carry away just half a bucket 
of water, I know.” 

“I’m in the habit of carrying it myself, I thank 
you,” she said, tossing her head. 

“But that’s going to change, you see,” he said, 
as he moved toward the spring. He laid hold of 
the handle of the bucket and said; “I’m going to 
carry it for you anyhow. It’s time you were giv- 
ing me the privilege of helping you more. Haven’t 
I done pretty well about not urging you?” 

“I wonder if you think you have?” 

He put down the bucket by the pile of rails, and 
said : 

“Have you ever thought about conscience not 
being a safe guide every time? Have you ever 
thought about what I’ll do in the future when 
trials and temptations come upon me, and you are 
not by to sustain me under them? That’s a work 
which no one else can do when hundreds of others 
can paint pictures, and paint better ones than per- 
haps you will ever learn to paint.” 

“But they can’t paint my pictures,” said Helen. 
“They can’t paint in my stead. You don’t sympa- 
thize with me. If I could root out this desire, I 
would have done so long ago. You’ve no idea 
what suffering it has caused me.” She picked at 
the rail on which her arm rested. “Yet,” she con- 


36 o 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


tinned, “I have thought of all those things. 
Sometimes it seems as if that were just the next 
step for me to take. I don’t see my way clear be- 
yond it. I know though we have to go step by 
step and trust. Sometimes, as I said, that seems 
my next duty, and then I think of father and 
mother, and it does not seem like a duty to leave 
them. So I’m still unable to come to any definite 
conclusion.” 

“Well, you can do this: you can promise me 
that you will marry me some day. That will be 
that much off your hands.” 

“Some day?” she repeated, thoughtfully. I 
don’t like to keep you in suspense, or whatever 
you might call this way, but really I’m doing the 
best I can. Some day, does that suit you? Then 
you will let me take my own time about — about 
the marriage?” 

“Provided,” said he, smiling, “you don’t take 
too long a time about it.” 

“You wouldn’t urge me ahead of my duty?” 

“I wouldn’t if I could help it,” said he, placing 
his foot on a rail and resting his arm on his knee. 
“Yes, I will let you take your own time about it. 
I want the right to turn my whole heart loose on 
you. You promise?” 

“Wait just a little while longer.” And she 
thought : “Maybe after all I’m mistaken about my 
being the only woman who could fit into his life 
and help him make of it what he wishes to make of 
it. Maybe he will think so himself after a while if 
he tired of Camilla. I’ll find out whether he did tire 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


361 


of her, and then I shall know better what to do.” 
So she said : 

“Come to-morrow evening and then I will tell 
you 'yes’ or 'no.’ ” 

''Can’t tell by to-morrow morning?” 

“No.” And she smiled. 

As she walked home by his side she perceived 
that the very shading of his nature was comple- 
mentary to that of her own. “That must be the 
way,” she thought ; “but I’ll see Camilla first, and 
then I’ll be better satisfied.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Camilla stood at the window in her old room 
and looked out on the apple tree in the front yard. 
She had a feeling akin to sympathy for this tree, 
for she regarded it as something that had endured 
trouble. And it seemed to her that the old tree 
presented a more friendly look to the window than 
it had done in the past. She thought of what 
Helen and Captain Morgan had said to her, and 
wished that she had heeded them. For she be- 
lieved that she would have been better prepared 
in a way for the new duties which had come to her. 
They were those of motherhood. 

The shade was down and Camilla stood behind 
it. When she turned her gaze from the apple tree, 
her eyes rested upon dim pencil marks on the win- 
dow-casing. She recognized the marks as those 
of the miniature liberty-bell which she had drawn 
there. And she thought of the time when she 
meant to have liberty throughout her life. But 
now? Helen would have said that Camilla’s ex- 
pression did credit to personified despair. But 
Helen did not see the look; nobody saw it except 
the baby in the crib over whose tiny form Ca- 
milla bent when he woke and manifested displeas- 
ure. 

Camilla drew back the downy, pink covering, 
and said: ‘T don’t know what to do with you, I 
don’t.” At this confession the little voice wailed 
the louder. The young mother lifted the babe in 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 363 

her arms, carried him to a low rocking-chair by 
the stove in the corner, and sat down. 

When the baby had ceased crying, Camilla 
thought: “Is it true, old stove, that I’^e come to 
this ? Is it true that I am forced to sit in the cor- 
ner the rest of my days, and send forth men into 
the world as I have accused you of doing in your 
way? And will mine make the world a better 
place to live in? They won’t unless they are the 
right kind. And I’m to send them forth. What 
am I to do so they will be the right kind? I just 
don’t know.” 

She leaned over the baby on her lap, saying : 

“What is it, baby? It’s a strange, hard world 
that you have come into, isn’t it? But you’ll have 
to get used to many things. I feel sorry for you, 
baby, with so much ahead of you to bump against, 
but I don’t know how to help you. Indeed, I 
donT. I just don’t know what to do with you.” 

The baby cried out, and Camilla said : 

“Oh, you don’t like that talk, do you? But I 
think you had just as well hear the truth. I don’t 
know what to do with you, physically, mentally, or 
spiritually.” 

When the babe slept, Camilla laid him back in 
the crib and drew the cover over him. 

Then she went to the dressing-case and un- 
braided her long, brown hair. After combing her 
head, she drew open the top drawer to find a 
string with which to tie the end of her plait, and 
she saw her bow of scarlet ribbon that was cov- 
ered with black net veiling. 

The bow seemed to be the only article in the 


364 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


drawer which Camilla could see. So she picked it 
up, held it out before her, and said inaudibly, 
“Why have you and the bell mocked me so to- 
day? Haven’t I treated you as well as I could? 
Shall I put you from view forever with your mock- 
ery to remember you by? For never more can I 
appear arrayed in the insignia of independence. 
Never again. So to your doom.” She opened 
the stove-door and threw in the bow of scarlet 
ribbon. 

Afterwards she turned to see if the baby stirred. 
Not seeing the cover rise and fall, she thought, 
“It makes no difference to you if your mother has 
failed to maintain her independence, does it?” 
She bent over him then to listen for his breathing. 
She knelt and put her face close to his, but still she 
could not discern that he breathed. “Is he dead?” 
she thought. “O God! O God!” she cried. 
“Let him live ! I will do the best I can for him.” 
She shook the babe, awakening him. Camilla 
thought, “Oh! you were only sleeping soundly, 
and I didn’t know it ; but what made you frighten 
me so?” She turned him on his other side and he 
went to sleep again. 

“How he did scare me,” she thought as she 
crossed the room. “But what am I to do? If 
Helen would come perhaps she could tell me. By 
the way, Helen has never been to see the baby all 
these six weeks of his life.” Then she smiled, for 
she thought of what her mother would say about 
Helen’s knowing anything concerning the care of a 
tiny baby. “I know she lacks experience,” she 
thought, in defense of her own opinion; “but I 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


36s 


can’t help thinking if she were in my place she 
could do better than I can do. She is not in my 
place though; nobody is. Not even his father can 
do for him what I ought to do ; I know that. But 
I never was so helpless in my life. I hardly be- 
lieved it possible for a time to come to me when 
I couldn’t find some way out of my difficulties, if I 
had to jump a fence to get out.” She smiled in 
thinking of her old self. “Now I can’t even do 
that. The baby has robbed me of the last vestige 
of liberty and independence, and I don’t know 
what to do with him. Shall I wait until he is a 
man with the hope of regaining them then ? Until 
he is a man ! How long that will be ! I’ll be too 
old to enjoy life then. Oh, oh, oh! What would 
Helen tell me to do? Yes, I know very well what 
she would do if she were in my place, and what her 
father would tell me to do.” 

Then Camilla knelt by a chair. After her short 
prayer, she remained by the chair, thinking. 

The baby cried. So Camilla rose, took up the 
infant again, and seated herself in the low rocking- 
chair by the stove. As she nourished him she 
bent over him and kissed his head. The baby 
looked up into his mother’s face and smiled. Ca- 
milla hugged the child, and kissed one cheek, and 
then the other, and his forehead, saying, “You 
like mother to love you, don’t you?” The child 
smiled again. “Mother does love her little baby. 
You must forgive her for saying she didn’t know 
what to do with you, for she doesn’t; but she’ll 
try to learn.” The baby smiled back his forgive- 
ness. Then Camilla thought, “Little babies have 


366 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


always seemed to me to be such nonentities, but 
he’s different from others.” And she said: '‘You 
love mother, don’t you? Yes, you do. Father 
always seemed to love me. Maybe I never ap- 
preciated him enough, for I thought so much 
about myself. If mother had but given me her 
sympathy, instead of trying to have me go her way 
whether I would or not, how much better it would 
have been for me. How much better off likely I 
would be now. If she only had !” 

Camilla rose, placed the baby in the crib, and 
watched him a while as he stared inquiringly at the 
ceiling. Then she went to her trunk, took out 
one of his best suits and laid it on the floor beside 
her. “I’m going to dress you up, and surprise the 
folks when they come in,” she said aloud. 

This was her first attempt at dressing the baby. 
After putting him back in the crib with the tiny 
pink bows at his wrists, she thought: “I know 
there must be harder things ahead for me to do 
for you, but this is sufficient to confirm my belief 
that bringing up children is harrowing work. It’s 
harrowing to one physically, mentally and spiritu- 
ally. Why, I’m so weak I tremble.” 

She dragged the crib to the side of the bed and 
lay down to rest. After a while she opened her 
eyes and saw that the baby slept. She tucked the 
coverlet about him, thinking, “What a pity to muss 
his finery before the folks see him.” Then she lay 
back on her pillow and thought : “A mother needs 
to be a combination of a Hercules and an angel. 
I reckon though the abilities of an angel would 
be all that's necessary. I think I can forgive my 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 367 

mother now for all the mistakes she made with 
me. 

By and by she got up, went to the closet, took 
down a Testament whose appearance age and not 
use had marred. She sat down by the window, 
lifted one corner of the shade, and read. At 
length she closed the book and looked out of the 
window beneath the raised corner of the shade, 
thinking : 

“How can I live true when Fm situated so that 
Fill obliged to be false? For I don’t love 
Howard. I know I don’t. I never loved him, 
and yet I can not live with him without pretend- 
ing that I do. Who could? I reckon Helen 
would tell me it’s my duty to love him now. I 
wish I could! I wish with all my heart that I 
could !” She rested her head against the back of 
the large rocking-chair in which she sat, and in a 
whisper cried : “O God I am I responsible for all 
this? Am I? Help me! Help me never to do 
him further injury. Can’t you blot out the past? 
Won’t you blot it out? Can’t you help me some- 
how to get on a true basis? Helen says you are 
a good God, and I know you must be. Won’t 
you be my God too? Fm ready to follow if you 
will only lead me. Fm bound as by fetters, it 
seems to me. F have not even liberty of soul. 
Can’t you, won’t you put me on a basis where I 
can have independence of spirit anyhow?” 

The baby cried out ; Camilla went to him. He 
hushed and slept on. 

Camilla drew up the low rocking-chair by the 
crib and sat down. And as she watched the baby, 


368 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


she saw an expression come over his face which 
was like that of his father. Then she examined 
the features. They seemed to her to be such as 
Howard’s must have been when he was young. 
New joy entered her heart, and she thought, ‘T 
can love him. I can love him now, for he is like 
the baby.” 

She bowed her head on the crib and offered a 
prayer of deep gratitude. Then she rose, went to 
the dressing-case, and looked for a piece of white 
ribbon. But finding none, she lifted the lid of her 
trunk and took out a piece which she had brought 
with her. Out of this she fashioned a bow, and 
pinned it on the bosom of her wrapper. 

''Are you coming down to dinner to-day?” 
asked Nina, entering the room. "I will stay with 
the baby. Has he been asleep all morning? We 
never heard a sound, and so we thought both of 
you were asleep.” 

"He has slept a good part of the time, but not 
all of it.” 

"Why didn’t you call us?” 

"Well, I reckon I’d just as well get used to 
managing him myself. I’ll have to go home be- 
fore long, you know, and then I won’t have you all 
to depend on.” 

When dinner was over, Mrs. Morgan, Nina, 
Joel, and little Annie assembled in Camilla’s room. 
After a short time Nina remarked : 

"I must get my things together, for Alvin will 
be here directly.” 

"Why didn’t you just have him come to stay 
over Sunday?” Mrs. Morgan asked. 

"He couldn’t do that very well, Besides, I 


AMONG THU MEADOWS 


369 


know it’s time I was getting back. Three or four 
days is about as long as I can well stay away right 
now.” 

“Come on, Annie, let’s go to the flower-bed if 
mamma is goin’ home this afternoon,” said Joel. 

“Don’t bother grandma’s flowers,” spoke Nina. 

“We’re not goin’ to pull ’em,” said Joel. “We 
just likes to look at ’em ; they are so pretty.” 

“Never mind, when you start home grandma 
will give you some,” said Mrs. Morgan. “I can 
very well spare them while Aunt Milly and the 
baby stay. But when you are all away, not a child 
left, the old place seems so big and bare that a 
few flowers bloomin’ in the yard helps it out a 
little. I don’t know what I would do with C. D. 
if it wasn’t for them. Last summer he dug in the 
geranium bed so much that I thought he surely 
would kill ’em. He said when he was doin’ that 
it made him feel sorter like he was helpin’ Camilla, 
for she used to do it.” 

“Now he never!” said Camilla, experiencing a 
pang of remorse. 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Morgan, “I try to have 
somethin’ or other in bloom as much as I can. C. 
D. says it comes the nearest to children of any- 
thing that he knows of, though it’s a poor substi- 
tute!” 

Mrs. Morgan then went to the crib and took up 
the waking baby. “Who put the ribbons and the 
good clothes on grandma’s boy, I want to know?” 
said she. “You didn’t, did you, Camilla?” 

24 


370 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


''Yes, I did,” said Camilla, triumphantly. "I 
suspect I had better take him.” 

"Will you listen?” said Mrs. Morgan. "She 
will be takin’ him clean off soon. When did you 
say Howard was comin^ for you ?” 

"In two weeks,” he wrote. 

"When the baby' goes away I reckon C. D. will 
take to mindin’ what Captain Morgan said to him 
more than ever.” She smoothed the counterpane 
on Camilla’s bed and straightened the pillows. 

And Camilla observed that her mother’s head 
went back and her chin came down, but in a differ- 
ent way from what they once did. Camilla 
thought, "If she only had been like that a few 
years ago!” She sighed, and then looked down 
at her white bow, and a new peace overspread her 
face. 

Nina noticed Camilla’s expression, and said : 

"I believe you will make a real good mother, 
but I never thought so before.” 

"You don’t say, Mrs. Crane?” 

"Yes; but I must hurry about getting up 
the rigging for my children.” Nina stooped and 
opened a valise on the floor. "I don’t want Alvin 
to come and find me not ready.” 

"You seem to pay very close attention to what 
Alvin says these days,” said Camilla. "I hope I 
shall be able to do half as well as you do, Nina.” 

"Now, Camilla!” But Nina was grateful, for 
she valued Camilla’s opinions, and she said: "I 
don’t mind admitting that I do look at things dif- 
ferently from the way I once did. After Alvin 
paid back the five hundred dollars that Uncle Dan 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


371 


let him have, rather gave him in a way, and he was 
trying to live right, I thought I ought to act differ- 
ently. He paid back the five hundred and the in- 
terest on it for the time he had it. Now we are 
out of debt and making a living. We can’t do as 
Mrs. Casey does, but I reckon it’s all right.” 

As Camilla retied the pink bows on her baby’s 
wrists, she thought. “What changes have come! 
It’s just as Helen said, God can use suffering, 
every kind of suffering, for a person’s spiritual wel- 
fare. And when we are driven to the wall, as it 
were, through him is the only way out of trouble.” 
She drew the baby closer, thinking: “Mother will 
make a white bow for you sooner than she did for 
herself. By rights she ought to have been form- 
ing her character all these years. By so doing she 
would have been forming your character too in a 
way.” She straightened the loops of the white 
bow which she wore, and then looked up to listen 
to voices in the hall. 

“The children brought me right up,” said Helen. 
She stood in the doorway behind Joel, who held 
open the door. 

“Why, come in,” said Mrs. Morgan, rising from 
her chair. “How happened we never saw you? 
But we was all up here busy talkin’.” 

Helen kissed Camilla, and then looked at the 
baby, and asked ; 

“Who does he favor?” 

“His father,” answered Camilla. 

“Just like him,” said Mrs. Morgan. “I saw that 
from the first. Have a seat, Helen,” 


372 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


And Helen seated herself in a chair near Ca- 
milla. 

Joel propped himself against the wall, and little 
Annie knelt in front of Camilla. 

Soon little Annie took the baby’s hand in hers, 
kissed it, and said: 

“Ain’t it sweet?” 

“Now you made him cry,” said Joel. 

Little Annie hid her face against Camilla and 
cried too. 

“He’s too little yet,” said Joel ; “wait till he gets 
big enough to wrastle.” 

“Never mind,” said Camilla to little Annie. “He 
may be as much hungry as anything else.” And 
she began to nourish him. 

“I ’ud quit now,” said Joel; “the baby’s quit. 
Just look at Aunt Milly. Don’t she and the baby 
look like grandma’s hyacinths?” 

Every person laughed, and Camilla asked : 

“Why not the tulips? You have been looking 
at them, too, haven’t you?” 

“No, no; the tulips they sorter settle down in 
their green leaves comfortable lookin’, but the 
hyacinths they just stand up straight, and their 
green leaves looks like they was afraid to get close 
to ’em, or didn’t know how, or somethin’.” 

The company laughed outright, and Mrs. Mor- 
gan said : 

“Aunt Milly is sorter awkward sure enough, but 
I reckon she’ll learn.” 

“She’ll get to be like the tulips after a while, I 
reckon,” conceded Joel. “The baby he is some 
like a tulip now. The tulip it opens up when the 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


373 


sun shines on it, and the baby he opens his mouth 
when he takes his dinner; that’s his sun, I 
reckon.” Joel stood knocking his heel against the 
wall. 

“Well, son, you are trying yourself,” said Nina. 
“If grandma is going to give you a few flowers to 
carry home with you, we had better go down- 
stairs, and get them ; for I see papa coming.” 

“I hope you are not going to hurry Alvin off be- 
fore he sees the baby,” said Camilla. 

Mrs. Morgan, Nina, and the children went 
down-stairs, and soon Alvin came up to speak to 
Camilla. 

“The little fellow has grown since I saw him 
last,” said Alvin. 

“You didn’t expect him to stand still,” said Ca- 
milla, proudly. 

“A fine boy,” admitted Alvin. “He will be a fine 
man some day. His mother will make him so.” 

Camilla was thankful for this encouragement, 
but she believed that Alvin thought better of her 
than she deserved, and she regretted that she was 
not more worthy of his good opinion. 

“I will try, Alvin, as hard as you have tried for 
yours,” she said. 

Alvin was grateful. 

When he was gone, and the sleeping babe was 
in the crib, Helen drew Camilla near the window. 
After sitting down, Helen said: 

“I want to ask you something.” Then she 
blushed and wished that Camilla would discern 
what that something was without having to put it 


374 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


into words. ‘‘You know Bruce Turner is visiting 
me?’’ 

“I have heard it,” said Camilla. And she won- 
dered what the question could be. 

“And he used to visit you.” 

“Yes; but that was a long while ago, you 
know.” 

“It hasn’t been so long but that you can re- 
member whether he always acted the gentleman.” 

“You want to know whether he won my maiden 
heart, and then trampled on it?” said Camilla, 
laughing. 

“I want to know whether he acted the gentle- 
man in the matter. I wouldn’t come to you with 
such a question if it were not that so much de- 
pends on what you and no one else can tell me; 
so much for me.” 

“And for him?” asked Camilla. 

“For both, I reckon you would say.” 

“Your decision?” 

“Yes.” 

Camilla thought: “I wished for a time to come 
when I could do Bruce Turner a favor, for he 
didn’t deserve what he received at my hands. He 
will never find a better wife than Helen will make 
him, but if I tell her I believe he loved me in all 
probability she will not marry him. What shall 
I do ? I do so wish to help Bruce out.” 

Helen broke the silence by saying: 

“You don’t mind now, do you, Camilla? I 
wouldn’t ask, but so much depends on what you 
can tell me.” 

Camilla looked down at her white ribbon, think- 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 375 

ing: “The white bows of father, mother, Nina, 
and Alvin have done so much for them. White 
bows, I call ’em, but none of the folks wear any 
white ribbon as a sign of the change. The change 
has been so good for them that I can’t part with 
my bow now. I can’t do it, for so much depends 
on it not only for myself but for the baby. You, 
Bruce, you have only yourself, and so you will 
have to fight your own battle, for I can’t tell a tale 
to help you out.” And she said : 

“Helen, I think he loved me then, but I didn’t 
love him, and I didn’t want to marry him, and so 
I jilted him.” Camilla thought: “Now, Bruce, 
you’ll have to bear the consequences. I’m sorry, 
but I couldn’t help it. You know it’s my bahy, if 
there were no other reason.” 

Helen exclaimed : 

”You jilted him!” 

“Yes, / did. But I’m sure he’s glad of it now 
if you will marry him.” 

“And you jilted him!” 

“Why, bless your soul ! I’m not the first woman 
that ever jilted a man. I’m ashamed that I wasn’t 
different at the time, so I wouldn’t have placed 
myself in the position where I had it to do. But 
that needn’t matter with you. If he tells you he 
loves you, you may rest assured he’s not still lov- 
ing me.” 

“He was true to you? It wasn’t his fault, not 
a bit of it?” 

“Not a bit that I know of.” 

“That’s all right,” said Helen. “I’m very, very 
much obliged to you. It was a great big piece of 


376 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


impudence. Thank you many, many times.’’ 
Helen leaned over and kissed Camilla, and then 
she rose to go, saying, 'T believe your white bow 
is more becoming to you than your red one was.” 
And she thought, ‘‘The deepening of the red of 
Camilla’s nature has commenced.” 

As she rode home she thought of the new life 
which she would enter upon some day. And she 
recognized a sense of shrinking from the public 
gaze which she as the wife of Bruce Turner would 
attract. She did not realize that she had de- 
veloped after the manner of Lady Charming. But 
there was a gilt edge to the book of character 
which she had formed. The knowledge would 
have assured her that she was adequate to the 
position. 

When she arrived at home she found her father 
very ill. 


CPIAPT^R XXX 


“Daughter/’ said Captain Morgan, calling 
Helen to his bedside, “What have you decided to 
do about marrying Bruce?” 

“Det us wait till you are well again,” Helen re- 
plied, “and then we will talk about it.” 

“I would like to know now. Is there anything 
in the way of your promising to marry him?” 

“Nothing that I know of,” Helen admitted. 
“But don’t disturb yourself about it now. I’ll 
never leave you and mother as long as you need 
me.” 

“Where is Bruce?” asked the captain. 

“He has just gone for the doctor, father.” 

Dr. Grose came and examined the patient. Af- 
terwards he took Bruce to one side and asked him 
if he could remain with Captain Morgan through 
the night. “I think it’ll be quick work,” the doc- 
tor said. “I have to leave now, but I’ll be back 
after a while.” 

Bruce realized in a measure the sorrow that the 
death of Captain Morgan would cause Helen, and 
he experienced genuine grief on his own account, 
but at the same time he heard a note of his own 
future happiness. 

Soon after the doctor left. Captain Morgan said : 

“Daughter, Bruce. Now, children, my chil- 
dren, as you go through life, walk so when you 
come down to the grave the horror of it will be 
lost in the thought of the beauties beyond.” 

“O father !” sobbed Helen. 


378 


AMONG THB MBADOWS 


‘‘Don’t grieve for me, daughter, I shall still live, 
ril wait for you Over There. Now, mother, you 
must try to think of the splendors I’m enjoying, 
and which you will enjoy with me after a time.’' 

“But father, what shall I do without you ? How 
shall I get on? I know you won’t be a Nobody 
Over There, but what will I do ?” 

“Mother, I haven’t thought lately anything 
about what I’ud be Over There ; whether I would 
be a Nobody or a Somebody. I haven’t thought 
about myself in that way since the election. I 
think I lost that notion in love for my Master — 
love for Him consumed it. I know it’s only 
through His mercy that I’ll get to Heaven at all. 
And I go trusting in His mercy. I haven’t done 
everything that I ought to have done, but I have 
made an honest effort of late years to live right. 
Now He’s taking care of death for me. One thing 
more though before I go, I must commend you 
to His care. He then lifted his voice and prayed : 

“O Lord, keep these my loved ones. Be a 
friend to them, be a protector for them, be a 
father to them — a stronger, a wiser, a better father 
— than — I — have — been.” He turned his head, 
and the warfare for this Christian soldier ended. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


The honeysuckles had bloomed again, but Mrs. 
Morgan gathered them this time without thinking 
of the pleasures which the years of sickness had 
robbed her. As she plucked them, thoughts of 
that other morning stole upon her when a loving 
arm had embraced her and loving words had fallen 
from lips now silent. And her heart reached out 
for the support of the Everlasting Arms and for 
the comfort that comes from Above. 

When Mrs. Morgan entered the room, carrying 
a bunch of honeysuckles, Helen looked up from 
her sewing, and realized a newly awakened sym- 
pathy for her. For Helen understood better what 
the loss of her father meant to her mother. 

As Mrs. Morgan placed the flowers in a tumbler 
on the mantel-shelf, footsteps sounded on the 
veranda. And Helen rose to open the door for 
Bruce Turner. 

When Mrs. Morgan was left alone she went to 
the closet and looked at a pair of man's shoes 
whose heels had not been blacked. Then she took 
the Bible from the table, and sought to learn more 
about the way to travel the narrow road, the one 
which the beloved wearer of the shoes had trod- 
den. 

Bruce and Helen walked toward the spring and 
talked of their wedding. 

Bruce took out of his pocket a letter from Dr. 
Cary. This told that Oscar Taylor wished to 
come to make sketches of the ancestral home. 


38 o 


AMONG THE MBADVJVS 


‘‘What do you say about it?” Bruce asked. 
“You will be mistress of the place then.” 

“He is your cousin, isn’t he? To be sure we’ll 
let him come.” Helen spoke her decision readily, 
thinking that Bruce wished to entertain his rela- 
tive. Then she remembered that Oscar Taylor 
was an artist. She clasped her hands, and cried: 
“Oh, it’s come! — my opportunity to learn to paint. 
Oh, oh I God is so good.” 

They came to a large white-oak and sat down 
under its boughs. 

Bruce pulled a piece of bark off the tree and 
threw it on the water, experiencing jealousy for 
the first time in his courtship of Helen. He was 
jealous of her love for her art, and deep-rooted he 
saw that love was. She was the first to speak : 

“What a strange mingling of joy and sorrow can 
be in the heart. I have sorrow for the loss of 
father and joy for my new life by your side and for 
this — the opening of the way that I have longed 
for, the way to become an artist.” 

Bruce pulled his hat over his eyes and began 
picking at another piece of bark. 

“What is it?” Helen asked. “Is it possible 
there is a sorrow in your heart of which you have 
never told me?’’ 

“I’m afraid it will pain you,” he said, turning 
his eyes upon her. Then with his characteristic 
frankness he said, “I’m jealous.” 

“Oh, you are?” And Helen laughed. “What 
of?” 

“Seriously, I am. I believe you love your art 
better than you do me.” 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


381 


“You don’t, do you?” 

“I’m afraid you do.” 

“If I tell you that I love you just as much as I 
can, and I love my art, as you call it, because I 
can’t help it, because I think God intends it, would 
that help you any? If I am taking anything from 
you by loving that I don’t know it. That is just 
my way, while the way of another woman is to 
serve the world through her musical talent, or 
perhaps her talent for housekeeping. I am to be 
a housekeeper too, you are thinking. But I’ll try 
not to let my art interfere with any duty to you. 
Away back yonder before I learned to love you, 
I wished for the chance to work only at art. I 
don’t wish for that now. Besides my love for you, 
God has shown me that through you is my way to 
art. I believe that I am on the road that He 
wants to lead me over. When I began to love 
you, I didn’t want to love you. I fought it with 
all my might. For one thing, I thought if you 
should ever love me, and should ask me to marry 
you (of which there seemed no probability at the 
time, I’ll confess now), it would put an end to my 
art. But I loved you in spite of all that. God 
intended me to love you, I think. Now I have 
told you all just as I understand it myself. 
Haven’t I succeeded in driving away your jeal- 
ousy?” 

“I believe you love me the best you can, my 
darling. I have no fears but that you will always 
do that.” 

“But you are a little jealous yet,” she said. 


382 


AMONG THB MEADOWS 


somewhat disappointed. She took off her hat and 
tossed it on the grass. 

He continued pulling at his second piece of bark 
without speaking. And Helen said: 

“Well, ril confess I’m jealous too.” She told 
of her conversation with Camilla, and then said, 
“At times since I’ve been jealous because you ever 
loved another woman.” 

He caught her hand and said : 

“My darling, my darling, that that should make 
you suffer!” After a few minutes he removed a 
flower from the lapel of his coat and placed it on her 
head. It was a blossom from the mound of the 
scarlet bow. He told her in his own way that she 
was the flower which had grown from the grave 
of his buried love. Afterwards, he waited, but she 
did not speak, and he asked: 

“Isn’t it all right now?” But his own heart 
answered, “No.” 

At length she said : 

“We are learning what we would no doubt have 
to learn later on. I mean we are learning that 
there is nothing outside of Christ which has not 
some shade of disappointment in it, not even our 
love for each other. Now that we realize that 
truth we can face it squarely and gain by knowing 
it. I believe that we can grow even closer to each 
other by trying to get closer to Him.” 

“We understand it now, don’t we?” he said. 

She saw in his face a stronger love than she had 
seen there before. In recognition of this fact she al- 
lowed him to kiss her lips for the first time. 


AMONG THE MEADOWS 


383 


When Helen went to her new home she took 
her mother with her. But it was a long while 
before she learned that Mrs. Morgan carried along 
a pair of man’s shoes whose heels had not been 
blacked. She knew though that her mother left 
her work-basket, and as time passed grew to read 
her Book more and more. 

About two years later a new grave was made 
by the side of Captain Morgan’s, and Mrs. Morgan 
had no further need for the companionship of the 
shoes whose heels had not been blacked. 

A few weeks afterwards Bruce showed Helen 
a letter from Dr. Cary. This advised Bruce of 
property which he had inherited. But the letter 
did not tell that Dr. Cary had resigned his own in- 
terest in an estate in Bruce’s favor, or that Helen 
had anything to do with his resigning it. He had 
intended returning to the country some time, and 
asking Helen perhaps to marry him, but neither 
Bruce nor Helen ever knew about this intention. 
The pressure of business prevented his coming for 
a time. And when Helen married, the doctor 
realized more fully what he had permitted his pro- 
fession to cheat him out of. Upon this realiza- 
tion, her talk with him took a stronger hold on 
him. 

When Helen read the letter she returned it to 
Bruce, asking: 

“What do you think you will do with it?” 

“The first thing that I thought of was that I 


384 


AMONG TUB MEADOWS 


would take you to Paris. A change of scenery 
and everything will benefit you.’^ 

“Paris!’’ said Helen. “Paris, where I can 
study art!” 

“Where you can study art, yes. But I’m not 
jealous of it now, little wife.” And he took her on 
his knee and kissed her. “You have made my life 
richer and fuller by showing me beauties that I 
had never seen and never would have seen but for 
you.” 

“But will that be the best way to use the money, 
you think?” she asked. 

“I — think — so,” he said slowly. “I have the 
impression that this is the opportunity that you 
have been looking forward to.” 

“The instructions that I received from Cousin 
Oscar helped to prepare me for this,” she said. 
“To think it has come! This opportunity! God 
has brought me along a road where I’ve learned 
to want to paint chiefly because I believe He wants 
me to learn.” 


Helen became an artist. She saw the promise, 
however, of a greater artist in the little man who, 
with his sister, planted the tiger-lilies, the holly- 
hocks, and the lilies-of-the-valley on Uncle Dan’s 
grave, the one who looked at the ring on his sis- 
ter’s finger, and said : 

“I reckon I’ve got a watch that I can wear when 
I get big.” 




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